THE  UNIVERSAL  ORDER 


"What  canst  thoufear 

if  the  Universal  Order  be 

thy  friend. 


The  UNIVERSAL 
ORDER 

FriederikaQuitmanOgden 
Published  by  Paul  Elder  <$ 
Company  o/San  Francisco 


9SI 


COPYRIGHT,  1915 

PAUL  ELDER  &  COMPANY 

SAN  FRANCISCO 


"We  Count  It 
Death  to  Falter,  Not 
To  Die" 


327215 


BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCH 

MRS.  FRIEDERIKA  QUITMAN  OGDEN,  YOUNG 
EST  DAUGHTER  OF  GENERAL  JOHN  ANTHONY 
QUITMAN  AND  ELIZA  TURNER,  WAS  HORN  AT 
MONMOUTH,  MISSISSIPPI,  IN  1844  AND  LIVED 
THERE  UNTIL  HER  MARRIAGE  AT  EIGHTEEN 
TO  MR.  FRANCIS  EUGENE  OGDEN. 
IT  WAS  THE  PERIOD  OF  THE  CIVIL  WAR  AND, 
AS  IN  THE  CASE  OF  MANY  A  YOUNG  COUPLE 
AT  THAT  TIME,  THE  BRIDE  AND  GROOM  WERE 
SOON  PARTED  NOT  TO  BE  TOGETHER  AGAIN 
UNTIL  THE  TERRIBLE  STRUGGLE  BETWEEN 
NORTH  AND  SOUTH  ENDED. 

NOT  LONG  AFTER  THE  CLOSE  OF  THE  WAR 
MR.  OGDEN  DIED  AND  MRS.  OGDEN  RETURNED 
TO  HER  OLD  HOME  AT  MONMOUTH.  EVER 
SINCE  HER  HUSBAND'S  DEATH  SHE  HAD 
BEEN  SOMEWHAT  OF  AN  INVALID.  SHE  SUF 
FERED  MORE  AS  TIME  WENT  ON,  UNTIL 
WHEN  A  LITTLE  OVER  THIRTY  SHE  BECAME 
A  "SHUT  IN,"  BEARING  HER  CONDITION  WITH 

MUCH  PATIENCE  BECAUSE  OF  AN  UNDAUNTED 
FAITH  IN  ULTIMATE  RECOVERY. 
DURING  HER  YEARS  OF  GREATEST  HELPLESS 
NESS  SHE  MADE  HER  HOME  AT  BERKELEY 
SPRINGS,  WEST  VIRGINIA,  AND  IT  WAS  HERE 
THAT  SHE  WROTE  A  JOURNAL,  RECORDING  IN 
IT  BRIEF  SKETCHES  OF  OUT-DOOR  NATURE, 
HER  OWN  SPIRITUAL  PROGRESS,  MEDITA- 

IX 


TIONS  ON   THE  WORDS  AND  DEEDS   OF  GREAT 
AUTHORS    OR    SOMETIMES    OF    THE    VILLAGE 
PEOPLE  WHO  WERE  HER  FRIENDS. 
SHE    WAS    A    WOMAN    OF    INTENSE    LOYALTY 
IN     FRIENDSHIP.        MRS.     JEFFERSON     DAVIS 

WAS     AMONG     THOSE     DEAR     TO     HER MRS. 

SIDNEY  LANIER.  NAME  AND  RANK,  HOW 
EVER,  MATTERED  NOT  AT  ALL.  WHETHER 
RICH  OR  POOR,  HIGH  OR  LOW,  CHILD  OR 
PHILOSOPHER,  A  FRIEND,  TO  MRS.  OGDEN, 
WAS  ONE  WHO  IN  SOME  WAY  SATISFIED 
HER  SOUL. 

SOME  EIGHT  OR  NINE  YEARS  AGO,  HER 
HEALTH  REING  IMPROVED,  SHE  WAS  MAR 
RIED  TO  MR.  AUSTIN  W.  SMITH,  A  FIRST 
COUSIN  OF  MR.  OGDEN'S.  ROTH  MR.  AND 
MRS.  SMITH  DIED  IN  1911,  MRS.  SMITH 
SURVIVING  HER  HUSBAND  BUT  FOUR  MONTHS 
AND  DYING  AT  "SARRAGOSSA,"  THEIR  COUN 
TRY  HOME  NEAR  NATCHEZ.  SHE  HAD  NO 
CHILDREN.  IN  HER  OWN  CHILDHOOD  SHE 
WAS  REMARKARLY  BEAUTIFUL  AND  THE 
LOVELINESS  OF  HER  EARLY  YEARS  CONTIN 
UED  TO  DEVELOP  THROUGHOUT  A  NOBLY 
GRACEFUL  WOMANHOOD,  EVEN  HER  POOR 
HEALTH  HAVING  NO  POWER  TO  EFFACE  IT 
ALL.  WHAT  HER  MIND  WAS,  THE  READER 
MAY  GATHER  FROM  HER  THOUGHTS  IN  THIS 
LITTLE  VOLUME. 

E.  C.  Is. 


INTRODUCTION 

FROM      THE     BED      OF     AN      INVALID WHAT 

MIGHT  HAVE  BEEN,  LIKE  HEINE'S,  A  "MAT 
TRESS  GRAVE" — THE  FOLLOWING  THOUGHTS 

WERE  JOTTED  DOWN  AT  INTERVALS  BETWEEN 
MORE  OR  LESS  LINGERING  PERIODS  OF  IN 
TENSE  SUFFERING.  THEY  ARE  THE  ME 
MORIAL  NOT  MERELY  OF  A  BRAVE  AND 
PERSEVERING  FIGHT  FOR  HEALTH,  BUT  OF 
A  SOUL  WRESTLING  FOR  TRUTH  WITH  A 
MIND  UPTURNED  AND  DARKENED  BY  DOUBT 
AND  AT  TIMES  IN  BLANK  DESPAIR.  IT  IS 
A  STRUGGLE  LIKE  THAT  OF  JACOB  WITH  THE 
ANGEL,  "l  WILL  NOT  LET  THEE  GO  EXCEPT 
THOU  BLESS  ME." 

THROUGH  SEVEN  YEARS  OF  STRESS  THE 
RECORD  GOES,  THE  PHYSICAL  POWERS  AFTER 
MANY  DISAPPOINTMENTS  MAKING  HEADWAY 
AND  THE  SOUL-LIFE  OUTRUNNING  THEM  IN 
EVER  WIDENING  AND  DEEPENING  SPIRITUAL 
EXPERIENCE,  THE  HEART  OF  THE  SUFFERER 
MEANTIME  OPEN  TO  THE  BEAUTIFUL  IN 
NATURE,  AND  HER  MIND,  BY  THE  POWER 
OF  A  DEVOTED  AND  UNCONQUERABLE  WILL, 
OCCUPIED  WITH  THE  STUDY  OF  PHILOSOPHY. 
THAT  THE  STRUGGLE  AVAILED  IN  ITS  RE 
SULTS  FOR  OTHERS,  WE  WHO  KNEW  HER 
CAN  TESTIFY.  WE  KNOW  ALSO  THAT  THIS 
EPOCH  WAS  IN  HER  OWN  CAREER  AN  UN- 

XI 


CONSCIOUS  PREPARATION  FOR  A  BEAUTIFUL 
AND  TENDER  PERIOD  OF  FULLER  LIFE  DUR 
ING  THE  YEARS  OF  GRADUALLY  RETURNING 
HEALTH  WHICH  FOLLOWED. 
HER  JOURNAL,  RECORDING,  AS  IT  DOES,  A 
"LONELY  HUMAN  SOUL'S"  INDIVIDUAL  WAY 
OF  SEEKING  OUT  AND  FINDING  GOD  AS  THE 
IDEAL  TRUTH  AND  LOVE  AND  BEAUTY,  IS 
A  SOURCE  OF  INSPIRATION  TO  US  TODAY, 
WHILE,  FOR  THE  MEMORY  OF  HER  DEEP 
HEART  AND  UNFALTERING  SPIRIT,  WE 
"THANK  GOD  AND  TAKE  COURAGE." 

H.  L.  J. 


XII 


CONTENTS 


BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCH ix 

INTRODUCTION xi 

WITH  NATURE    

On  the  Seashore 3 

A  Peaceful   Scene 4 

Solitude  with  Nature 4 

The  Living  Whole 5 

Morning  Under  the  Trees 6 

True  Worship 6 

Reason 7 

The  Uniting  Principle  of  Love       .      .      . '  7 

Autumn's  Melancholy  Music     ....  8 

The  Beauty  of  the  Morning      ....  8 

Genius 9 

Poetry 9 

Joan  of  Arc 11 

The  "Odor  of  Sanctity" 12 

Rain 12 

Preconscious   Nature 13 

Nature  at  Pause 14 

Morning 14 

A  Dreamer 15 

Autumn    Sky 15 

The  Poet  Is  Protean 15 

The  Return  of  the  Birds 16 

October 16 

No  Drones 16 

The  Peace  of  the  Sky 17 

Visitors 17 

Sleep  and  Re-awakening  to  Pain  ...  18 

TRANSPLANTATION 

The  Dawn  of  Faith 21 

Snow 22 

Joy  a  State  of  Sanity 22 

Transplanting       ........  23 

Innocent  Joy 23 

A  Day  Like  Distant  Music 25 

"Do  Justly  and  Love  Mercy"       ....  25 

XIII 


There  Is  a  Light  of  Lights        ....  25 

The   Bitter 26 

Spring,  and  Signs  of  Physical  Progress      .  26 

The  Soul  Obedient  to  Nature    ....  27 

The  Universe  Is  Good 27 

Moving  with  Night  and  Morning    ...  28 

Life  Is  Good 28 

The  Soul's  New  World  .      .       .•     .       .       .  29 

Trees 29 

The  Wren 32 

Joy  in  All  Guises 32 

August 33 

Joy,  Not  Hell 34 

Rousseau 35 

Under  the   Trees 36 

The  Happiness  of  a  Double  Existence       .  37 

The  Tragedy  of  Life 38 

Innocent  Joy  a  Phoenix 38 

Hope  and  Faith 38 

Beethoven's  Eighth  Symphony       ...  39 

The  Holy  Stars 40 

To    Rest 40 

A  Methodical  Life 40 

To  the  Condemned 42 

The  Day  of  Peace  at  Hand       ....  42 

Beauty 43 

Branches  and  Stars 43 

Walt  Whitman's  Death 44 

Goethe 44 

The   Body 45 

Great   Truths 45 

The   Ocean 4'5 

The  Storm  Is  Raging 46 

Butterflies 46 

The  Morning's  Baptism  of  Light  and  Life  46 

Divinity  in  Monotony 47 

My  Miracles 47 

The  Little  Hen 48 

The  Winter  of  the  Heart 48 

As  One  of  the  Stars  of  Heaven       ...  48 

The  Pride  and  Self-Poise  of  Genius    .       .  49 

A  Mind  Omnivorous 49 

Poetry  Versus  Science 49 

Sudden    Events 50 

XIV 


UNFOLDING 

The  Soul  Awaking 53 

Soul   Travail 54 

The  Ideal  Vision  of  the  Universe  ...  56 

Drifting 57 

The   Bleeding  Heart 58 

An  Inrush  of  Power 58 

The  Soul's  Contentment 58 

The  Blooming  of  the  Grape       ....  59 

Clouds 59 

Doves'   Voices 60 

Why  the  World  Is  So  Beautiful     ...  60 

Robins 60 

Is  the  Bitter  Sweet  To-day?     ....  61 

A  Little  Moment  of  Divine  Life     ...  61 

The  Pine  Tree 61 

The  Life  of  the  Mind 62 

Brain  and  Spirit 62 

The   Commonplace 62 

Summer 63 

A  Divine  Music 64 

An  Exquisite  Pain  of  Soul 64 

Transmutation 64 

The  Soul  in  Transition 64 

"Gods,  Though  in  the  Germ"      ....  65 

The  Poetic  Perspective 66 

Resignation 66 

A  Jar  of  Grasses 66 

Stages  of  the  Soul's  Unfolding       ...  67 

The    Poet 68 

Poetry  Involves  Abstract  Ideas      ...  69 

Swinburne 69 

The  Joy  of  Trust 72 

"O  Peter,  Go  Ring  Dem  Bells"  ....  72 

The  Diver  of  the  Soul 72 

Clouds  and  Moods 73 

Eternal   Thought 73 

The  Sciences  the  Slaves  of  Thought    .       .  74 

Tennyson's  Death 74 

Indian  Summer 75 

The  Lone  Farm  House 75 

The  Why 76 

Modern  Progress  and  Sentiment    ...  77 

Sunrise 79 

XV 


IN    HARMONY 

The  World  of  the  Still  Things        ...  88 

The  Common  Nature 84 

The  Pity  of  It 84 

Acquired  Touthfulness 85 

The  Day  of  Knowledge 86 

The  Red-Bird's  Song 88 

A  Vision  of  the  Sun 88 

My  Method  of  Study 88 

To  the  Plum  Tree 90 

Sounds  to  the  Poet 91 

The  Solemn  Procession  of  the  Clouds       .  91 

One  Happy   Moment 91 

As  the  Thread  Through  a  String  of  Pearls  92 

The  Mystic  Power  of  Spring     ....  92 

Only  One  of  the  Gleaners 92 

Imprisonment 93 

Philosophy 93 

The  Cry  of  Dives 94 

Philosophy  Is  Homesickness     ....  94 

In  a  Thunderstorm 94 

The  Divine  Doors 95 

Under  the  Sky 96 

Entering  Upon  the  Mastery  of  Life      .       .  97 

Co-operation 98 

Heaven  Here  and  Now 99 

Despair  the  Tempter  in  the  Desert      .       .  100 

Ladye  Spiritual 100 

A  Moment  in  the  Eternal  Now       .       .       .  101 

Truth  Is  Not  Cheap 101 

Metaphysic 102 

Woman  Suffrage 102 

The  Brute  Law  Versus  the  Higher  Law    .  103 

Creative  Love  Versus  War  and  Plunder    .  104 
The  Life  of  the   Soul  Like   the  Globe  in 

Variety 106 

The  Crushed  Herb's  Fragrance      .       .      .  106 
The  Bird  with  a  Poet's  Heart  .       .       .       .107 

The  Flowers'   Death-Song 108 

The  Inner  Voice 108 

The  Empyrean  of  Ideas 108 

When  Life  Appears  Unreal        .       .       .       .109 

Madame  de  Stael 109 

The  Poetry  of  Life 109 

XVI 


Poetry  Makes  Rich 110 

The  Cost  of  the  Right  Road      .       .       .       .110 

The  Beautiful  Tree  of  Poetry  ....  Ill 

Music 113 

I  Know  Only  My  Ignorance      ....  113 

Inspiration  and  Purposive  Action  .       .       .  114 

Mediocrity  and  Genius 114 

Sons  of  God 114 

The  Poem  of  My  Own  Life      .       .      .      .116 

Genius  Makes  a  New  Era 116 

Memories 116 

The  Cheering  Principles  of  Philosophy      .  117 

Philosophy  Versus  Agnosticism      .       .       .  117 

A  Person  of  Genius 117 

Four  Moments  of  Life 118 

A  Drive  in  the  Mountains 118 

As  the  Shekinah  to  Israel 119 

Little   Efforts 119 

Good  Only  Is  Real 120 


XVII 


With  Nature 

I  knew  myself 

a  conscious  part  of  a  Living  Whole; 

conscious  of  the  sense  of  touch 

with  the  Living  Whole. 


WITH    NATURE 

JUNE  4,  1887.    The  sound  of  the  ocean  is  On  the 
in  my  ears.  I  see  the  long,  blue  line  of  its  Seashore 
magnificent  waters  from  my  window.    I 
hear  the  songs  of  the  birds,  the  chirp  of 
the  cricket,  and  look  out  upon  spreading 
fields    of    buttercups    and    other    wild 
flowers.     Above,   the   heavens   are   seen 
without  let  or  hindrance.     One  can  be 
very  near  to  Nature  here. 

SEPTEMBER  5.  Spent  the  afternoon  on 
the  inland  dune,  reading  Emerson's 
"Plato." 

SEPTEMBER  9.  In  these  days  Nature  is 
seen  in  her  most  beautiful  aspects.  The 
skies  are  wonderfully  deep  and  blue,  the 
air  is  a  very  wine  of  life,  the  dear  woods 
are  full  of  the  voices  of  the  winds,  of 
birds,  of  insects.  The  trees  and  flowering 
plants  and  all  the  little  weeds  have  borne 
their  fruits.  Mind  and  heart  are  arriv 
ing  at  fuller  development;  the  spirit,  too, 
is  bearing  fruit — a  spiritual  harvest  time 

3 


«V:i*i.>JV   :i.,;  A-.WITH  NATURE 

to  match  the  harvest  of  Nature.  I  am 
growing  into  an  ever-deepening  sense  of 
the  One-ness,  the  Common-ness  of  all 
things.  Henceforth  I  shall  rejoice  more 
than  weep.  I  stand  upon  the  threshold 
of  a  new  life. 

A  Peaceful  SEPTEMBER  27.  Spent  almost  the  whole 
Scene  day,  yesterday,  in  the  field  and  on  the 
inland  dune,  reading  "The  Invisible 
Lodge"  and  Comte's  Philosophy  by  John 
Stuart  Mill.  The  air  was  soft  and  balmy. 
The  sun  shone  out  fitfully  from  behind 
many  shifting  clouds.  The  landscape  of 
fered  a  peaceful  scene  and  in  the  distance 
was  the  ocean  with  its  ships. 

NOVEMBER  2.  I  had  a  good  view  of  the 
Statue  of  Liberty — the  gift  to  America 
from  the  French  Republic.  The  majestic 
figure  fills  the  heart  with  renewed  love 
of  freedom. 

Solitude  MAY  15,  1888.  For  months  I  have  battled 
with  Nature  alone  with  the  pOWers  of  Darkness.  All 
my  efforts  toward  recovery  have  proved 
worse  than  failures.  Marred,  bruised, 
crippled,  almost  dead  from  mortal  com 
bat  with  the  deadly  powers  of  human 
ignorance,  I  was  brought  out  into  the 
wholesome,  saving  influences  of  the  coun 
try.  Here  I  began  a  life  outdoors,  taking 
rugs  and  lying  on  the  grass  all  day.  I 
got  well  sun-burned.  As  I  journeyed  out, 

4 


WITH  NATURE 

Spring  was  visible  in  tender  buds  on 
bough  and  twig.  Even  the  dirt  roads, 
the  naked  branching  trees  and  the  in 
creasing  solitudes,  poured  balm  into  my 
wounds.  Nature,  my  nourishing  Mother, 
has  nursed  her  sick  child  upon  her 
bosom  and  I  am  better.  The  work  of 
restoration  will  be  slow. 

OCTOBER  14.  Returning  health  flows 
through  my  life  channels.  Surely  this 
summer's  solitude  with  Nature,  where  I 
drank  direct  from  her  eternal  fountains, 
and  the  wise  books  I  had  for  compan 
ions,  went  far  toward  bringing  all  my 
past  life  of  thought  and  feeling  under  the 
focussing  light  of  a  newer  and  larger 
conception,  which  in  due  season  will 
bring  forth  fruits  for  a  higher  and  nobler 
life — simpler  and  humbler. 

NOVEMBER  12.  I  am  reading  the  noble  TheTA 
philosophy  of  Epictetus.  There  is  a  grow-  Wliole 
ing,  an  ever-deepening  intimacy  between 
the  Soul  and  the  Universe.  Last  night  as 
I  looked  out  my  window  into  the  sky  and 
saw  the  stars,  a  vital  and  living  sense  of 
nearness  came  into  my  soul.  I  knew  my 
self  a  conscious  part  of  a  Living  Whole; 
conscious  of  the  sense  of  touch  with  the 
Living  Whole.  The  Soul  was  awed  and 
cried  aloud.  O  for  an  ever-increasing 
realization  of  the  Eternal  Presence! 


WITH  NATURE 

Morning  JULY  30,  1889.     I  see  Miss  Mollie's  corn 
Under  patch.    It  is  bearing  grain.    I  see  the  tall 

the  Trees  stalks,  each  one  erect  and  rejoicing  in  its 
life,  the  leaves  glistening  in  the  sun.  I 
saw  it  planted  in  the  spring. 
The  trees  stand  erect,  near-by,  uncom 
plaining.  Overhead  the  sun  "rejoices  as 
a  giant  to  run  his  course"  in  the  calm 
and  eternal  heaven,  that  ethereal  ocean 
upon  whose  bosom  all  life  is  reposing — 
planets,  suns,  systems.  Shall  the  Soul 
alone  grovel  in  the  dust  of  discontent,  in 
the  midst  of  this  cheerful  company? 
What  canst  thou  fear  if  the  Universal 
Order  be  thy  friend? 

True  JULY  31.     What  is  true  worship?     Is  it 
Worship  not  having  a  mind  reverent  to  law,  that 
law   we   call   divine   because   it   is   uni 
versal? 

Worship  does  not  consist  in  thought 
only,  but  also  in  act — thought  made 
moral  by  action. 

True  worship  is  guided  by  reason  and 
set  on  fire  by  feeling.  Right  feeling  is 
the  flower  of  reason.  Reason  is  the 
power  by  which  we  judge,  by  which  we 
know.  Reason  is  the  direct  door  to  un 
derstanding.  Jesus  has  said  that  you 
must  enter  the  Kingdom  of  God  by  the 
door.  He  spoke  of  himself  as  the  door, 
because  he  lived  and  taught  by  reason, 

6 


WITH  NATURE 

not  by  instinct  and  passion  as  do  most 
men.  Matthew  Arnold  speaks  of  the 
"Sweet  reasonableness"  of  Jesus.  The 
true  worshiper  can  enter  the  temple  of 
the  Divine  only  by  the  door  of  sweet 
reasonableness. 

AUGUST  3.  The  Soul  grows  strong  to  Reason 
stand  alone.  A  clear,  beautiful  vision  on 
the  Mount  today!  Reason  was  seen  to 
be  a  veritable  part  of  divine  Reason.  All 
the  good  that  comes  into  life,  as  well  as 
the  good  tnat  comes  out  of  seeming  mis 
fortune,  comes  through  reason's  right 
activity,  when  her  dictates  are  listened 
to  and  passion  permits  her  free  activity. 
My  soul  was  filled  with  truth.  She  com 
muned  with  divine  Reason. 
Love  is  the  flowering  of  reason. 

AUGUST  4.    I  see  the  universe  moving  on-  The  Unitii 
ward  in  stars,  systems,  galaxies,  by  the  Principle 
same  law  of  love — attraction  that  thrills  of  Love 
and   controls   the  life   of  the   Soul;   the 
same   law   of  love   that  brings   together 
friends,    lovers,    comrades,    uniting    the 
Lonely  Human   Soul  into  one  life  with 
her   comrade-Soul — lonely   no   more   for 
she  enters  into  the  universe  of  Truth,  and 
love  elevates  and  exalts  the  Soul.     She 
becomes  united  by  the  law  of  love  with 
friends,    lovers    and    comrades    in    the 
league  of  the  Universal. 


WITH  NATURE 

Autumn's  AUGUST  6.  I  hear  the  death  songs  of  the 
Melancholy  little  crickets  in  the  seeded  grass.  The 
Music  songs  of  the  birds  are  hushed.  Already 
some  leaves  are  turning  and  dropping. 
There  is  a  note  of  autumn  in  the  sound 
of  the  rain's  constant  drip,  drip.  The 
winds  begin  to  roam  with  that  wild  free 
dom  and  melancholy  music  peculiar  to 
this  season.  The  wild  flowers,  which 
little  G — 1  brings  to  me,  are  tinted  with 
the  rich  autumn  colors.  Sadness  steals 
down  from  the  skies  and  pervades  the 
air.  The  Lonely  Human  Soul  is  for 
saken.  All  things  speak  of  the  coming 
of  winter,  of  solitude,  of  death.  Phil 
osophy,  faith,  alone  keep  the  Soul  from 
sinking  into  despair.  The  Spirit  falls  but 
arises  once  more,  standing  erect  with 
head  upward  toward  the  skies!  "We 
count  it  death  to  falter,  not  to  die." 
The  Beauty  AUGUST  12.  My  soul  is  intoxicated  with 
of  the  the  beauty  of  this  morning,  as  one  drunk 
Morning  with  a  fine  wine.  There  is  not  a  cloud 
in  the  depths  above.  The  sunshine  falls 
over  all,  like  a  plenary  indulgence.  The 
air  is  cool.  The  winds  are  roaming 
abroad,  fluttering  branches  and  leaves, 
making  exquisite  little  pictures  in  light 
and  shade.  All  Nature  is  glistening,  mov 
ing,  radiant.  O  to  wander  forth,  far 
away  into  the  mountains! 


8 


WITH  NATURE 

AUGUST  13.  Genius  is  the  culmination,  in  Genius 
one  individual,  of  the  general  progress  of 
many  preceding  generations;  but  genius 
has  its  limitations.  Its  power  to  promul 
gate  truth  cannot  exceed  the  power  of 
the  constituents  which  go  to  make  up  the 
tendency  of  the  thought  of  the  age  to 
which  the  genius  may  belong. 

AUGUST  15.  Poetry  awakens  the  mind  Poetry 
from  the  slumber  of  the  utilitarian  and 
the  commonplace.  It  awakens  universal 
sympathy  with  all  creatures  and  all 
things.  Poetry  broadens  the  spiritual 
horizon  and  gives  perspective  to  life. 
With  the  poetic  imagination,  I  see 
this  little  earth-ship  sailing  rhythmically 
through  the  blue  ether,  as  she  follows  the 
sun  in  his  vaster  sweep  through  the 
starry  spaces.  I — who  constitute  but  one 
atom  of  life  in  my  one  swift,  ebbing 
moment  of  time — I  transcend  myself 
and  gaze  upon  this  picture  of  duration. 
It  becomes  as  present  a  reality  for  me  as 
though  I  endured  with  Time  and  Space, 
with  worlds  and  systems.  So  does  the 
poetic  imagination  lift  up  the  mind  into 
the  realm  of  the  god-like. 
Poetry  sees  persons  and  things  as 
types,  as  classes,  each  one  forming,  as  it 
were,  lights  and  shadows,  in  the  great 
Picture  of  Life  in  which  are  infinite 


WITH  NATURE 

Poetry  gradations  of  color  and  form,  not  the 
least  of  which  is  without  its  due  sig 
nificance. 

Poetry  strikes  back  into  the  first 
springs  of  existence,  into  the  original 
purpose  of  Nature,  by  showing  the  com 
mon-ness,  the  kinship  of  all.  Poetry  re 
lates  all  things.  She  may  be  likened  to 
the  great,  sympathetic,  nervous  system  in 
the  human  body,  whose  function  is  to 
unite  all  the  other  systems  together. 
Poetry  is  the  voice  of  God  singing  the 
song  of  the  evening  star  in  the  Soul. 
The  farther  the  exact  sciences  pro 
gress  the  more  proofs  do  they  give  that 
the  universe  is  a  related  whole.  These 
truths  were  long  antedated  in  the  dreams 
and  rhapsodies  of  the  poets.  Hence  are 
poets  called  seers.  They  have  the  vision 
of  the  deepest  realities — the  spiritual 
significance  of  things,  the  deep  things  of 
Nature  in  their  primeval  simplicity. 
Hence  true  poetry  is  simple,  strong.  The 
artificial,  the  conventional,  the  frivolous 
have  no  part  in  her.  Real  poetry  en 
dures. 

Poetry  sets  the  mind  at  equipoise.  The 
poetic  Soul  is  at  peace  with  Nature.  The 
old  Hermits  were  poets  at  heart,  else  they 
could  not  have  lived  in  those  sublime 
solitudes  of  desert  and  mountain. 
The  poetic  mind  knows  the  right  pro- 

10 


WITH  NATURE 

portions  of  things  and  disdains  worldly 
ambition,  finding  joy  in  simplicity.  The 
poet  is  independent  of  circumstance  and 
convention,  resting  joyfully  upon  Nature, 
feeling  her  universal  relations. 
Poetry  meets  Philosophy  on  the  Heights; 
one  flies  thither  on  wings,  the  other 
toils  up  the  crags,  step  by  step,  staff 
in  hand — a  pilgrim  to  the  Shrine  of 
Truth.  Wordsworth  sings  of  "Joy  in 
widest  commonalty  spread,"  and  Con 
fucius  declares,  "With  a  few  grains  of 
rice,  a  cup  of  cold  water,  and  my  bended 
arm  for  a  pillow,  I  still  know  joy." 
Poetry  is  not  concerned  with  clothing 
and  feeding  mankind.  She  clothes  and 
feeds  the  Soul  with  grace  and  beauty — 
in  so  far  as  the  Soul  can  perceive  and 
receive  her  truth  into  its  own.  Those 
who  do  not  possess  the  poetic  perception 
lose  one  of  the  highest  and  most  exalting 
enjoyments  of  life. 

AUGUST  28.  I  have  just  finished  reading  Joan  of  An 
Michelet's  "Joan  of  Arc."  It  is  written 
simply  and  with  poetic  sensibility.  Strip 
the  story  as  one  may  of  legend  and  mir 
acle,  there  is  left  the  fact  that  a  young 
girl,  in  the  ignorance  of  peasant  life, 
was  moved  by  inner  power  to  lead  the 
armies  of  her  people,  to  effect  the  cor 
onation  of  her  king,  to  die  heroically,  un- 

11 


WITH  NATURE 

dismayed  by  persecution  and  desertion. 

AUGUST  29.  The  life  story  of  that  pure, 
heroic  soul,  la  Pucelle,  lingers  with  me, 
profiting  my  soul.  It  is  a  living  poem  of 
unselfishness,  heroic  endurance  and  fidel 
ity.  Shall  I  not  strive  to  be  as  she  was, 
in  that  last  moment  when  she  forgot  her 
own  cruel  fate;  forgot  the  flames  which 
were  waiting  for  her?  Her  soul  was 
filled  only  with  a  sublime  consideration 
for  the  Dominican  priest  who  attended 
her  on  the  scaffold,  imploring  him  to  save 
himself,  when  she  saw  the  executioner 
put  the  torch  to  the  pile! 

The  "Odor  SEPTEMBER  4.  O  the  peace,  the  light, 
of  Sanctity"  the  piety,  of  this  morning!  All  so  still, 
so  perfect,  as  though  the  earth  were 
adoring  the  heavens.  The  "odor  of 
sancity"  over  all — a  spiritual  essence 
from  out  the  infinite  Spirit  of  the  uni 
verse.  The  fragrance  from  my  ripened 
grapes  is  the  physical  correspondence  of 
this  heavenly  essence,  which  penetrates 
the  hidden  recesses  of  my  soul,  awak 
ening  the  spirit  to  "make  melody  before 
the  Lord." 

Eain  SEPTEMBER  10.  I  listened  this  morning  to 
the  music  of  the  raindrops — the  regular 
tramp,  tramp  of  the  footsteps  of  the  rain, 
as  it  were  an  army  of  tiny  beings  on  the 
roof  and  on  the  ground.  I  hear  the  liquid 

12 


WITH  NATURE 

splashing  into  puddles  beneath  the  cot 
tage  eaves.  It  is  the  dripping  from  the 
grapevines.  The  birds  have  gone  some 
where  for  shelter,  I  know  not  where. 
Seldom  do  I  hear  a  single  chirp.  All 
other  sounds  are  lost  in  the  music  of  the 
rain. 

I  wish  to  get  as  nearly  outdoors  as  pos 
sible.  I  sit  on  the  porch  beneath  an 
umbrella,  for  the  roof  leaks.  I  wish  to 
get  as  near  to  the  rain  as  possible  without 
being  soaked.  I  watch  the  soft,  steel-blue 
tints,  begot  of  rain  and  mist,  that  have 
come  over  the  landscape.  In  what  tender 
colors  do  they  paint  all  Nature !  A  lovely 
picture,  full  of  peace  and  trembling  with 
life. 

SEPTEMBER  11.    Is  unconscious  Nature,  in  Preconscioi 

tree  and  stock  and  stone,  nearer  to  "Pre-   Nature 

conscious"  Nature  which  lies  back  of  this 

shifting  "Maia,"  than  is  conscious  man 

who,  though  higher  in  the  scale  of  life, 

yet  by  virtue  of  his  very  consciousness 

and  power  of  choice,  is  farther  removed 

from  the  immediate  workings  of  the  Pre- 

conscious?      For    man's    activities    are 

mediate    through    his    perceptions    and 

will. 

Will    man    ever    progress    so    far    as    to 

meet  the  other  end  of  the  great  circle  of 

Life  and,  by  means  of  his  perfected  per- 

13 


WITH  NATURE 

ceptions  and  will,  come  into  perfect 
union  with — intelligent  realization  of — 
the  Pre-conscious? 

Nature  SEPTEMBER  13.  Nature  seems  to  pause,  as 
at  Pause  though  swooning  from  the  excess  of 
"mellow  fruitfulness"  with  which  she  has 
crowned  orchard,  garden,  field  and  for 
est.  A  breathless  stillness  is  over  all  as 
though  some  cherished  purpose  were 
now  fulfilled  and  earth  rested  in  quiet 
joy  after  the  days  of  showers,  mists  and 
damp.  This  peace,  this  quiet  joy,  sink 
deep  into  my  soul,  calming  and  purify 
ing.  O  to  be  as  Nature  is,  bountiful, 
modest,  loving,  patient,  never-failing. 

Morning  SEPTEMBER  18.  The  sun  is  silently  mount 
ing  up  the  eastern  sky.  Millions  of  dew- 
drops  glisten  on  the  grass,  as  though 
some  munificent  squanderer  had  thrown 
diamonds,  sapphires  and  rubies  there.  I 
hear  the  music  of  the  cowbells  from  dis 
tant  roads  and  fields  where  kine  are 
grazing.  The  air,  pure  and  stimulating 
as  nectar  for  soul  and  body,  gently  flut 
ters  the  little  leaves.  The  death-songs  of 
the  autumn  crickets  and  other  insects 
keep  up  a  melancholy  monotony,  a  sort 
of  fugue  in  the  music  of  Nature.  The 
birds  are  silent  save  that  at  rare  inter 
vals  I  hear  the  jocund  whistle  of  the  red- 
bird,  or  the  cheerful  voice  of  some  other 

14 


WITH  NATURE 
"Little  Brother."  I  hear  the  dreamy  hum 
ming  of  the  bees,  sipping  my  ripened 
grapes.  The  sound  affects  my  imagina 
tion  similarly  to  the  sound  of  the  human 
hive,  heard  at  a  distance,  to  give  the 
poetic  perspective. 

SEPTEMBER  29.  What  capacity  have  I  for  A  Dreamer 
accomplishing  any  work  in  life?  What 
is  Nature's  purpose  in  regard  to  me? 
What  was  I  made  to  do,  to  achieve? 
There  is  no  lack  of  aspiration — the 
writer,  the  artist,  the  musician — can  1 
be  any  one  of  these?  With  chagrin  I  own 
my  incapacity.  I  have  no  powers  of 
composition,  of  construction.  I  am  not 
original,  creative,  giving  form  to  ideas; 
only  a  dreamer;  yet  daring,  courageous, 
profound,  vague,  illimitable,  poetic. 

SEPTEMBER  30.  A  blue  dome  above  me,  Autumn  Ski 
as  I  sit  outdoors,  flecked  over  by  little, 
white,  woolly  clouds  in  flocks,  like  sheep 
grazing  in  heavenly  pastures.  The  air  is 
cool,  still,  full  of  sunshine  that  says,  "It 
is  autumn." 

OCTOBER  8.     I  find  that  each  person  of  The  Poet 
talent  has  only  his  own  limited  powers  Is  Protean 
of  perception  and  little  stock  of  truths, 
on  hearing  which,  all  is  said.    It  is  not  so 
with  the  poet.     He  is  ever  new  and  re 
freshing,  because  creative;  he  is  protean, 
like    Nature    herself.      The    poet    is    her 

15 


WITH  NATURE 

favorite  child;  to  whom  she  has  given 
perpetual  youth — the  power  of  being  ever 
born  again. 

The  Return  OCTOBER  9.  The  birds  have  returned  of 
of  tJi€  Birds  late.  During  the  latter  part  of  the  sum 
mer  their  songs  were  hushed.  I  hear, 
first  one,  then  another  little  friend  of  last 
spring.  How  glad  I  am  to  welcome  them 
back!  How  much  consolation  they  bring 
me!  Their  sweet  notes  stimulate  the 
poetic  imagination  to  its  happiest  mood, 
whereby  the  heart  is  refreshed  and  glad 
dened  by  visions  of  beauty  and  peace. 

October  OCTOBER  10.  It  is  warmer  today.  I  sit 
out  of  doors.  The  sky  has  a  paler  blue 
with  here  and  there  thin,  feathery  cloud 
lets,  one  shaped  like  a  long,  slender 
plume.  The  winds  are  stirring,  rustling 
the  dead  leaves  about  me,  like  memories 
of  lost  hopes.  The  redbird  sings  in  a 
near  tree.  Earlier,  a  flock  of  partridges, 
with  a  great,  rushing,  whirring  sound, 
flew  into  the  osage  orange  hedge,  near 
my  cottage,  to  remain  but  a  few  moments, 
when,  with  much  whistling  to  each  other 
and  great  excitement  and  fluttering  of 
wings,  off  they  flew  to  the  mountain. 
No  Drones  OCTOBER  14.  Everyone  ought  to  wish  to 
add  something  to  the  world's  store  of 
wealth.  Those  who  have  their  living 
without  working  ought  to  satisfy  the 

16 


WITH  NATURE 
claims    of    justice    by    doing    a    certain 
amount  of  free  work  for  the  world. 
No  one  should  be  a  drone,  an  idler,  a 
mere  consumer.     Everyone  ought  to  do 
his  share  of  production  for  the  privilege 
of  living  and  enjoying  life  in  this  palace 
of  the  sky. 

OCTOBER  15.    An  ideal  October  day!   The   The  Peace 
sky    is    poetical — giving    expression    to   of  the  Sky 
spiritual  realities  in  the  forms  of  beauty. 
It  is  a  tender  blue,  mild,  temperate,  pas 
sionless;  looking  dowyn  upon  a  distracted 
world  like  a  great,  calm  face,  quieting  the 
hot,  restless  soul  of  man  gone  mad  with 
strife   and   passion.     O   beautiful   Face! 
look   down   into   this   heart   and   in   thy 
smile  send  quietness,  peace,  joy. 

OCTOBER  16.  The  sky  is  one  solid,  light-  Visitors 
grey  color.  No  sunshine.  The  birds  are 
singing  as  though  it  were  spring.  The  air 
is  still.  One  tiny  Little  Brother  tripped 
into  my  cottage  this  morning  where 
I  was  alone,  lying  on  the  couch.  He 
hopped  from  chair  to  chair,  with  ex 
quisite  grace  and  airy  motion.  I  felt 
glad  of  his  gentle,  silent  presence.  I 
wished  he  might  approach  close  to  me, 
but  I  did  not  know  in  what  manner  to 
act  so  as  not  to  frighten  him.  Soon, 
however,  some  noise  outside  frightened 
him  and  away  he  flew. 

17 


WITH  NATURE 
Little  C — 1  came  to  ray  cottage  yester 
day  and  sang  for  me : — 

"The  hills, 

The  beautiful  hills 

The hills"— etc. 

The  child  voice,  the  slim  little  figure, 
the  look  of  innocence  on  his  face,  his 
rustic  simplicity,  made  a  picture  not  to 
be  forgotten. 

Chrysanthemums  and  nasturtiums  are 
blooming.  Little  G — 1  keeps  me  supplied 
with  them. 

Sleep  and  NOVEMBER  19.  What  does  the  condemned 
Ee-awaJcening  man  dream  of?  Is  sleep  to  him  a  bit  of 
to  Pain  oblivion?  When  he  awakens,  is  it  diffi 
cult  for  him  to  realize  again  his  terrible 
doom?  Is  it  torture,  this  often  repeated 
experience  of  oblivion  and  re-awakening 
to  the  consciousness  of  a  cruel  fate? 
The  Soul's  experience  is  similar  to 
this.  She  falls  asleep.  She  forgets  in 
dreams.  She  is  once  more  free  and 
happy.  She  awakens.  She  arises.  The 
old  Pain  says:  "Good  morning,"  takes 
her  by  the  hand,  remains  close  with  her 
all  day.  Oh,  when  will  the  hour  arrive 
for  the  Soul  to  stand  erect,  once  more 
free? 


18 


Transplantation 

The  Soul  is 

uprooted  from  the  place  of  care  and 

grief  and  planted  again  in  the 

new  soil  of  increasing 

health,  hope,  joy. 


TRANSPLANTATION 

JANUARY  4,  1890.  The  hour  of  dawn  of  The  Dawn 
the  Day  of  Health  approaches.  The  long,  of  Faith 
black,  painful  Night  is  passed.  A  great 
faith,  a  great  trust  in  the  power  of  uni 
versal  Good-will,  the  Cosmic  Power,  God's 
life — call  it  what  you  will — fills  the 
Lonely  Human  Soul  as  water  fills  a  well. 
This  universal  Good-will,  by  means  of 
faith  built  on  reason,  will  "Renew  my 
youth  like  the  Eagle,"  will  "Heal  all  my 
diseases,"  will  "Restore  my  soul."  Did 
not  Jesus  say  to  the  sick  one  made  well: 
"Thy  faith  hath  made  thee  whole?" 
The  Lonely  Human  Soul  stands  upon 
the  threshold  of  a  new  and  higher  life. 
Power  flows  in,  intellectual,  moral,  phys 
ical.  The  days  of  apprenticeship  are 
over.  The  life  of  the  master-workman 
will  commence.  The  horizon  widens 
in  every  direction.  The  Lonely  Human 
Soul  is  the  child  of  God,  consecrated  to 

21 


TRANSPLANTATION 

do  his  will.  Is  this  presumption,  or  is  it 
true  humility?  The  latter  surely,  be 
cause  the  Soul  acknowledges  that  all  her 
power  is  God's  power  in  her. 

Snow  JANUARY  18.  There  was  a  snow  storm 
last  night.  There  is  a  spirit  of  purifica 
tion  abroad  embodied  in  this  spotless 
snow.  O  to  receive  that  imprint  upon 
the  heart! 

Joy  a  State  JANUARY  31.  These  are  days  of  "silent 
of  Sanity  demand"  and  of  prophecy.  Quoth  Saint 
Anthony,  "To  be  built  up  in  virtue,  one 
must  be  built  up  in  tears."  That  is  the 
first  stage — the  preparation — but  to  ar 
rive  at  spiritual  maturity  the  Soul's  ever 
lasting  dome  must  be  built  up  of  joy. 
To  be  joyful  is  the  only  sane  temper  in 
which  to  live.  It  is  the  temper  of  Nature 
and  of  her  prophet  and  seer — the  poet. 
Those  persons  who  go  through  life  fret 
ful,  peevish,  discontented  are  partially 
insane.  The  poet  is  the  sanest  of  men. 
Wordsworth  sang  of  life  as  joy,  in  "Daf 
fodils"  and  "Early  Spring."  Emerson  had 
the  same  temperament  of  the  poet.  How 
glad  he  makes  you  feel;  how  plentiful  he 
is  to  feed  the  Soul,  like  some  old  apple 
tree  that  loads  the  ground  with  fruit! 
Saint  Paul  tells  us  of  joy  as  one  of  the 
"fruits  of  the  spirit."  It  is  the  purpose 
of  the  universe  that  every  creature  be 

22 


TRANSPLANTATION 

full  of  innocent  joy,  merry,  gleeful  joy, 
like  that  which  Beethoven  gives  in  his 
Pastoral  Symphony. 

FEBRUARY  1.  When  a  plant  is  trans-  Transplanting 
planted,  it  passes  through  a  trying  time. 
It  has  been  uprooted  from  its  old  familiar 
spot.  At  first  it  is  weakened  until  the 
roots  take  firm  hold  upon  the  new  soil 
and  it  begins  to  draw  force  from  the  air. 
If  the  climate  is  better  adapted  to  the 
nature  and  requirements  of  the  plant 
than  the  old  one,  the  plant  will  become 
stronger,  with  increased  power  of 
flowering  and  fruition.  The  Soul  is  now 
passing  through  the  trying  time  of  trans 
plantation.  She  is  uprooted  from  the 
place  of  care  and  grief  and  planted  again 
in  the  new  soil  of  increasing  good  health, 
hope,  joy.  Life  will  be  richer  and 
happier. 

FEBRUARY  8.  Happiness  as  an  end  is  in-  Innocent 
sufficient  and  may  lead  to  vice;  hence  Joy 
the  utilitarian  ideal  is  not  the  correct 
one.  The  purely  moral  motive,  without 
the  emotion  of  happiness,  is  incomplete 
and  unsatisfying.  Though  great  and 
heroic  it  fails  to  meet  all  the  require 
ments  of  the  heart  and  mind.  A  perfect 
ideal  should  meet  every  aspiration  of  the 
Soul.  Such  is  the  ideal  of  innocent  joy. 
The  poet  in  his  rhapsody  knows  innocent 

23 


TRANSPLANTATION 

Innocent  joy.    Robert  Browning  looked  out  on  the 
Joy  world  and  declared: — 

"I  report  as  a  man  may  of  God's  work, 

all's  love  and  all's  law." 

Again  he  sings: 

"Life  with  all  it  yields  of  joy  and  woe, 
And  hope  and  fear, 
Is  just  our  chance  o'  the  prize  of  learn 
ing  love — 

How  love  might  be,  hath  been  indeed, 
and  is — " 
And  Edwin  Arlington  Robinson: 

"Love's    complete    communion    is    the 

end 
Of  anguish  to  the  liberated  man." 

Where  all  is  love,  there  all  is  innocent. 
The  world  must  be  infinite  joy  to  satisfy 
an  ever  increasing  thirst  for  an  ever  re 
newed  state  of  innocent  joy — offering 
new  fields  of  discovery,  of  fresh  thought 
and  feeling. 

The  ideal  of  innocent  joy  leads  to  con 
structive  work.  Its  tendencies  are  funda 
mental  and  rejuvenating.  There  is  no 
medicine  to  be  compared  to  the  medicine 
of  joy.  Grief  is  destructive.  Innocent 
joy  can  be  attained  only  by  obedience  to 
the  spiritual  law.  The  practice  of  virtue 
tends  to  joy. 

FEBRUARY  14.    The  air  is  soft  and  vibrat- 
24 


TRANSPLANTATION 

ing  with  birds'  songs.  I  hear  the  red- 
bird.  The  sun  shines  gently  amid  light- 
moving  clouds.  There  is  a  manner  of 
grace,  an  air  of  tenderness  about  the  day 
that  comes  to  the  heart  like  distant 
music.  It  is  the  season  for  new-born 
love,  for  tender  sighs,  for  pensive  moods. 

MARCH  29.  EASTER.  Criminals  ought  to 
be  treated  as  patients  in  a  hospital.  They 
should  not  be  treated  as  moral  beings  re 
sponsible  for  their  acts.  They  are  chil 
dren  needing  to  be  educated  into  moral 
ity,  not  by  means  of  the  knout,  of  ball 
and  chain,  of  solitary  confinement,  or  of 
any  other  cruel  method,  but  by  teaching 
them  truth,  honesty,  fidelity,  justice,  self- 
control,  love,  forgiveness,  mercy.  By  in 
justice  you  can  not  make  a  just  man;  by 
unkindness  a  kind  man;  by  hatred  and 
passion  a  loving  man.  If  it  were  so  then 
there  would  be  no  truth  in  the  command: 
"Do  justly  and  love  mercy." 

APRIL  1.  With  closed  eyes  I  was  lying  on 
my  couch.  On  opening  my  eyes  the 
white  light  from  the  sky  flooded  me  with 
brightness  and  purity.  The  following 
thoughts  rose  up  out  of  my  heart: — 

There  is  a  Light  of  lights, 
Oh,  that  my  eyes  could  see! 

Only  the  light  of  the  sun 
Is  visible  to  me. 

25 


A  Day  Like 
Distant 

Music 


"Do  Justly 
and  Love 
Mercy" 


There 
Is  a  Light 
of  Lights 


TRANSPLANTATION 

There  is  a  Light  of  lights, 
Oh,  that  my  eyes  could  see! 

It  is  the  Light  of  the  Soul, 
And  only  the  Soul  can  see. 

The  Bitter  At    night    the    Soul    had    drunk    of    the 
bitter  of  Verlaine's  poe'me: 

"Les  sanglots  long 
Des  violons 
De  1'autumne; 
Blessent  mon  coeur, 
D'  une  langueur 
Monotone. 
"Tout  suffocant 
Et  bleme,  quand 
Sonne  1'heure; 
Je  me  souviens 
Des  jours  anciens 
Et  je  pleure. 

"Et  je  m'en  vais 
Au  vent  mauvais, 
Qui  m'emporte 
De  ci,  de  la, 
Pareil  a  la 
Feuille  morte." 

Spring  and  APRIL  20.     The  spring  is  fairly  with  us. 

Signs  of  I  see  the  first  tender,  yellowish-green  tint 

Physical  stealing  forth  on  the  trees  in  the  garden. 

Progress  The  birds  are  my  daily  companions.     I 

wonder  if  they  know  it!     Their  songs 

are  my  music.    Ah,  thou  dear  Pine  Tree! 

26 


TRANSPLANTATION 

I  forget  thee  not  and  thy  soft  murmurs. 
My  old  Friend,  the  great  aspen  tree, 
budded  and  blossomed  last  spring  and 
now  stands  dead  near  my  window.  It 
will  give  me  the  music  of  the  humming 
bees  among  its  blossoms  not  this  time, 
nor  any  more.  I  miss  thy  consolations, 
dear  old  Tree! 

Ah,  the  poor  body!  How  is  it  with 
thee?  Ailing,  ailing;  better  than  two 
months  ago;  better  than  one  month  ago, 
yet  still  benumbed  by  disease,  rendering 
it  perilous  to  walk  out. 
The  Soul  is  striving  to  conform  to  the 
laws  of  Nature  in  every  habit,  yielding 
up  herself,  more  and  more,  to  the  con 
trol  of  spiritual  law. 

JUNE  1.    When  the  Soul  becomes  obedi-   The  Soul 
ent  to  Nature,  she  enters  upon  her  real  Obedient 
life.     When  she  comes  into  unison  with   to  Nature 
the  Eternal  through  obedience  to  the  law, 
in  which  alone  she  shall  find  her  freedom 
by  the  emptying  of  self  through  renuncia 
tion  to  be  refilled  with  universal  life,  she 
then  becomes  creative,  as  the  universe  is 
creative.     "Drift,   drift,"   says   Emerson, 
"the  current  knows  the  way." 

JUNE  26.     The  universe  is  good.     When   The  jjniverse 
you  do  evil  you  are  using  some  of  the  isGood 
force  of  the  universe  to  make  yourself 
unlike  the  common — i.  e.  universal — na- 

27 


TRANSPLANTATION 

ture.  And  there  is  a  reacting  power  in 
the  nature  of  things  which  forces  evil  to 
become  finally  transmuted  into  good,  thus 
ever  preserving  the  balance  of  the  whole. 
When  the  mind  becomes  rational, 
which  is  its  natural  tendency  under 
favoring  conditions,  the  desire  to  do  evil 
is  eliminated,  for  the  rational  mind  par 
takes  of  the  nature  of  the  universe  and  is 
in  ever-growing  harmony  with  universal 
order.  Life  does  not  desire  death,  nor 
does  health  desire  pain,  nor  does  the 
heart  desire  to  be  hated  and  spurned. 
Moving  with  JUNE  27.  The  secret  of  life  lies  in 
Night  and  humble,  faithful,  patient  doing.  Rage 
Morning  and  despair  but  destroy  us,  as  do  im 
patience  and  negligence. 
All  things  must  grow.  Nothing  may  be 
forced  to  its  perfect  fruition.  Patient, 
unfailing  duty  done,  is  alone  capable  of 
accomplishing  good  results.  To  gain  in 
the  long  run,  to  have  power,  each  person 
must  take  his  appointed  place  in  the 
great  order,  and  move  along  with  night 
and  morning,  with  the  seasons  and  the 
stars,  be  as  they  are,  regular,  never-fail 
ing.  To  the  silent,  faithful  act  belongs 
victory. 

Life  Is  Good  JUNE  28.  It  is  a  high  standpoint  to  reach 
when  pain  and  sorrow  are  seen  to  be 
good  as  well  as  pleasure  and  joy.  It  is 

28 


TRANSPLANTATION 

the  uses  of  things  which  constitute  their 
worth.  The  noble  mind  will  transmute 
all  things  into  good,  seeing  the  uses  of 
pain  and  sorrow  as  well  as  of  pleasure 
and  joy.  The  noble  mind  is  not  tainted 
with  pessimism;  it  sees  that  life  is  good 
and  that  there  is  no  blot  to  mar  the 
beauty  of  it. 

JULY  3.  The  Soul  is  passing  out  of  the  The  Soul's 
old  life,  into  the  new;  from  out  the  old  New  World 
material  world  of  vanity,  of  desire  for 
admiration,  of  pride,  of  selfishness,  of 
luxury,  of  frivolity,  of  ignorance,  of  ex- 
clusiveness,  of  idleness,  of  sensuality — 
out,  out,  far,  far  out — into  the  distant 
new  world  of  Renunciation,  of  self- 
abandonment,  of  common  Brotherhood 
with  all;  not  with  man  only,  but  with 
animals,  birds,  insects,  fishes,  stocks  and 
stones;  yea,  with  the  very  elements  them 
selves;  into  the  new  world  of  work,  of 
seriousness,  of  plain  living;  the  new 
world  of  knowledge;  into  the  higher 
world  of  intelligence;  of  the  Spirit,  the 
tender,  the  true,  the  discriminating,  per 
ceiving  world  of  the  Divine! 

JULY  9.    I  love  trees.    They  feed  me  with   Trees 
fruits.     They    warm    me    with    fragrant 
wood  fires.    They  are  my  friends  and  the 
friends  of  my  race. 
I   love   trees   because   we    are   the   chil- 

29 


TRANSPLANTATION 

Trees  dren  of  one  common  parent,  because  we 
have  one  common  nature  and  one  com 
mon  destiny. 

I  love  trees  because  they  are  good;  be 
cause  they  are  kind,  because  they  are 
modest,  because  they  have  dignity  of 
character.  How  hospitable  they  are  to 
the  birds  and  the  little  squirrels,  giving 
them  homes!  They  give  food  without 
money  and  without  price.  In  the  sum 
mer  days  how  pleasant  are  their  shadows 
where  the  weary  may  find  rest.  They 
are  Quakers,  for  peace  abideth  with 
them.  They  are  philosophers,  saints  and 
poets. 

Trees  are  the  friend  of  man.  He  could 
not  find  a  home  upon  the  earth  were  it 
not  for  trees.  They  could  live  without 
him,  but  not  he  without  them.  They 
call  the  gracious  rains  together,  bringing 
harvests  to  their  ungrateful  brother 
whose  brutal  hand  is  too  often  laid  upon 
their  beauty. 

Can  words  describe  the  grace  of  their 
myriad  branches,  or  the  tenderness  of 
those  arms,  garlanded  and  veiled  with 
leaves,  outstretched  with  longing  to  em 
brace  the  sun?  What  shadows,  what 
colors,  what  motion — live  paintings  done 
by  the  hand  of  Nature — where  imagina 
tion  may  nestle  with  birds  or  skip  from 
branch  to  branch  like  squirrels.  Happy 

30 


TRANSPLANTATION 

lovers  seek  those  shadows  for  their  tryst.   Trees 
When  the  branches  are  bare  and  strip 
ped,  they   are  like   the  widowed   heart. 
They    point    upward    to    the    sky    like 
prayers. 

The  violin  with  its  human  voice  comes 
out  of  the  heart  of  trees.  It  is  a  revela 
tion  of  their  kinship  with  man  when 
these,  his  silent  brothers — silent  now  no 
longer,  but,  with  an  eloquence  exceeding 
that  of  man  himself — give  voice  to  the 
imprisoned  poetry  of  his  soul. 
Trees  are  the  friend  of  man  in  his 
Religion  as  in  his  Art.  They  give  con 
solation  to  the  Soul  when  burdened  with 
its  weight  of  bitter  agony.  Christ  went 
to  the  trees  in  His  hour  of  bloody  sweat. 
Elijah  and  the  other  Prophets  and  the 
Saints  of  old  went  to  the  trees  seeking 
rest.  Trees  were  the  only  witnesses  to 
the  Buddha's  act  of  renunciation  in  his 
solemn  hour  of  enlightenment. 
Trees  are  the  comforters  and  compan 
ions  of  mankind.  Philosophers,  saints 
and  poets  are  not  unmindful  of  them. 
They  know  that  trees  are  a  company  of 
peacemakers.  They  know  that  Christ, 
preaching  the  Sermon  on  the  Mount,  in 
the  midst  of  trees,  included  them  as  joint 
heirs  to  the  beatitude,  "Blessed  are  the 
peacemakers,  for  they  shall  be  called  the 
Children  of  God." 

31 


TRANSPLANTATION 

The  Wren  JULY  10.  Thou  tiny,  fluttering  thing, 
quivering  with  life  and  joy,  the  music  of 
thy  chatter  tells  me  of  thy'  simple,  happy 
life.  Thou  singest  not  of  heroic  deeds, 
nor  of  the  heart's  sorrow.  Thy  days  are 
passed  in  sprightly  chatterings~to  all  live 
things  about  thee.  Thou  dost  enliven  me, 
and  I  love  thee  and  am  thankful.  Thy 
gentle  virtues  are  suited  to  thy  home 
mission  and  its  tranquil  rounds.  Thou 
art  a  commonsense  philosopher  and  no 
mystic  with  deep  vision.  Lightly  dost 
thou  sit  on  the  hough — lightly  poised  as 
the  bee  in  mid-air.  Light  is  thy  burden. 
Thou  dost  take  no  thought  for  the  mor 
row.  Thou  art  a  true  Christian.  Thou 
dost  trust  thy  Heavenly  Father  for  "all 
of  these  things  which  shall  be  added  unto 
thee."  Thou  makest  me  glad  when  I 
listen  to  thy  music  as  it  ripples  out  in  a 
tiny  stream  of  happy  life.  O,  Jenny 
Wren;  O,  Jenny  Wren! 

Joy  in  All  JULY  19.  Joy  goes  through  the  world  in 
Guises  all  guises.  She  comes  anywhere  and  at 
any  time.  Sunday  morning  in  the  solemn 
hymn-tones  of  the  children  in  the  church 
the  Soul  finds  the  human  longing  for  a 
purer  life  and  intimations  of  a  love  faith 
ful  beyond  the  grave.  She  finds  it  in  the 
picture  painted  on  the  blue  sky  by  the 
tinkling  dances  of  the  aspen  leaves;  or 

32 


TRANSPLANTATION 

in  the  soft  wavings  of  the  palms  of  the 
Paradise  tree;  or  in  the  symmetry  of  the 
spider's  silver-spun  web  shining  in  the 
sun  under  the  cottage  eaves. 

AUGUST  1.  Of  all  the  months  of  the  year  August 
I  most  love  August.  It  is  the  season  of 
the  harvest.  It  is  the  fullness  of  time  in 
the  year.  The  day  of  preparation  is  past. 
The  labor  is  done.  The  waiting  is  over. 
Nature  is  banqueting  on  the  fruits  of  the 
Fullness-of-Time.  Joy  and  Peace  sit  be 
side  her — a  seraphic  company!  My  heart 
longs  to  partake  of  that  perfect  feast,  for 
then  I  shall  be  satisfied. 
August  is  the  time  of  the  perfect 
fruition  sprung  from  the  wedding  of  the 
winter  with  the  spring,  as  the  child  is  the 
consummation  of  the  perfect  union  of 
man  with  woman.  A  marriage  without  a 
child  is  as  a  broken  ring,  an  unfinished 
circle — a  year  without  an  August. 
In  August,  not  the  least  of  a  tiny  weed, 
not  a  wild  tree,  not  a  vine,  which  bears 
not  its  seed-child  upon  its  bosom.  Not 
a  bird  or  insect  but  has  fulfilled  its 
proper  function  and  is  receiving  the  re 
ward  of  love.  Nature  is  then  August  in 
all  the  fullness  of  Maternity.  She  drinks  of 
the  wine  of  the  Fullness-of-Time.  From 
out  the  depths  of  her  great  heart  is  heard 
the  Song  of  the  Seasons:  "Now  is  the 

33 


TRANSPLANTATION 

Hour  come;  now  are  the  hopes  fulfilled; 
now  is  the  time  of  the  consummation." 
O  blessed  and  consecrated  moment,  the 
Sabbath  Day  of  Nature — her  festival  of 
Rest  and  earthly  type  of  eternal  Peace! 
The  Soul  will  await  the  coming  of  the 
Fullness-of-Time — the  coming  of  August 
in  the  circle  of  her  life.  Shall  she  ever 
sit  at  that  banqueting  table,  and  with  Joy 
and  Peace  drink  of  that  cup?  She  will 
trust  and  wait,  knowing  that  every  event 
comes  in  its  due  season;  that  the  moment 
she  shall  deserve  happiness,  that  moment 
she  shall  receive  it.  Kant  sublimely 
teaches  that  man  ought  not  to  strive  for 
happiness,  but  so  live  as  to  be  worthy 
of  it. 

Joy,  AUGUST  2.  What  a  comedy  is  life  often 
Not  Hell  seen  to  be!  How  many  foolish  beliefs 
and  customs  mislead  mankind,  hither  and 
thither,  as  the  Will-O'-the-Wisp  fantastic 
ally  misleads  the  lonely  night  wayfarer 
in  the  story  book!  Think  of  a  company 
gathered  together  to  sing  doleful  songs 
about  the  vanity  of  life  and  the  torments 
of  hell,  relegating  all  joy  to  some  future, 
possible  heaven.  Whereas  the  truth  is, 
life  is  no  vanity,  the  "Preacher"  notwith 
standing,  save  only  as  one  may  make  it 
so.  Life  is  a  divine  existence  of  un 
speakable  \vorth  and  there  is  "Joy  in 

34 


TRANSPLANTATION 

widest  commonalty  spread."  As  to  the 
so  much  be-preached  and  be-sung  hell 
torments,  they  exist  only  in  the  imagina 
tion.  The  reality  is  that  God  is  a  god  of 
love  and  the  visible  universe  is  an  out 
burst  his  own  divine  joy,  not  wrath. 
AUGUST  3.  I  am  reading  Rousseau's  Con-  ftousseau 
fessions.  What  a  book  it  is!  What  a 
revelation  of  the  heart  and  of  life!  I  ad 
mire  his  ability  to  stand  outside  the  pas 
sions,  as  it  were,  when  passing  judgment 
upon  himself.  It  must  have  required 
moral  courage;  or  was  it  simply  that  ex 
ceptional  force  which  comes  with  genius, 
to  show  the  naked  truth;  to  portray  the 
soul  "with  all  its  imperfections  on  its 
head"  to  the  outside  world? 
What  a  study  the  book  is!  What  in 
tricacies,  what  subtle  variations  of  char 
acter  were  bound  up  together  in  that 
one  human  being  named  Jean  Jacques 
Rousseau!  How  vividly  he  shows  the 
power  of  circumstance  and  incident  to 
influence  and  mould  character  and  life! 
What  a  gift  of  penetrating  expression  he 
has,  which  enables  his  words  to  get  into 
the  mind  so  that  the  reader  seems  to  be 
come,  for  the  time  being,  Jean  Jacques 
Rousseau,  himself,  living  again  through 
scenes  and  incidents  in  that  remarkable 
life.  What  delicate  humor,  what  a  lov- 

35 


TRANSPLANTATION 

able  nature,  what  a  singular  being!  What 
extreme  opposites  brought  together  in 
one  personality — voluptuous  yet  loving 
the  pure,  fickle  yet  faithful,  lying  yet  de 
voted  to  truth,  thieving  yet  honest!  He 
seemed  a  living  Aeolian  harp  responding 
to  every  note  of  life  about  him.  Gould 
any  other  pen  tell  the  same  things  with 
such  skill  and  delicacy  in  the  use  of 
language? 

Rousseau  did  not  prostitute  his  reason 
by  using  sophistry  to  condone  the  errors 
into  which  his  inflammable  temperament 
and  the  customs  of  the  times  led  him. 
He  judged  and  condemned  himself. 
Gould  a  bad  man  prefer  the  compan 
ionship  of  streams,  flowers,  the  sky  and 
his  own  thoughts  in  the  country  quiet, 
to  the  excitements  of  a  life  in  Paris? 
It  was  his  misfortune  to  live  in  an  age 
of  loose  sexual  morals  and  manners;  even 
so,  I  believe  that  had  he  early  met  and 
married  the  woman  whom  he  could  truly 
love  he  would  have  been  faithful. 
Under  AUGUST  11.  I  come  down  to  be  alone 
the  Trees  with  the  trees,  to  see  how  the  sunlight 
and  the  shadows  gild  and  paint  them  as 
they  are  moved  by  the  gentle  summer 
breeze;  to  be  with  the  birds,  now  almost 
songless,  to  watch  their  swift  and  silent 
flight  from  tree  to  tree;  to  look  at  the 

36 


TRANSPLANTATION 

blue  sky  above  me  where  sails  a  great 
white  cloud;  to  watch  the  matchless  grace 
of  the  little  leaves  as  they  dance  to  the 
music  of  the  winds.  I  came  out,  stagger 
ing  beneath  my  load  of  pain,  to  live  one 
hour  with  Beauty  in  the  midst  of  this 
sweetness,  that  my  soul  may  swim  out  into 
the  ocean  of  spiritual  perception,  wash 
and  be  clean,  strengthened  and  restored 
by  these  living  waters  of  contemplation. 

AUGUST  23.  It  is  very  warm.  The  The  Happiness 
turkeys  have  sought  the  shadows  under  of  a  Double 
a  clump  of  small  trees  where  the  shade  Existence 
is  dense.  They  are  picking  and  cleaning 
their  feathers.  Occasionally  I  hear  them 
peeping  to  each  other  in  low  tones. 
How  I  wish  that  I,  too,  could  so  order 
my  life  as  to  trust  wholly  to  Nature  for 
every  provision,  as  do  these  poor  fowls — 
wiser  than  I!  I  desire  a  life  rid  of  all 
artificial  arrangements;  to  live  out  of 
doors,  without  house  or  possessions,  as 
did  Saint  Anthony.  But  could  I  live 
alone  as  he  did?  No.  I  am  not  great 
enough.  The  heart  bleeds  in  secret  for  a 
human  comrade.  As  did  Rousseau,  so 
does  the  Soul  crave  for  the  happiness  of 
a  double  existence  in  the  perfect  union 
of  two  souls  in  one;  yet,  like  Amiel,  noth 
ing  that  might  give  offense  to  the  Ideal 
in  her  would  satisfy. 

37 


TRANSPLANTATION 

Alone,  the  Soul  knows  not  happiness. 
How  was  it  with  the  grand  old  Saint  and 
Father  of  Hermits? 

The  Tragedy  AUGUST  26.  I  look  out  on  the  world. 
of  Life  What  do  I  see?  I  see  the  writhing  worm 
trodden  down  upon  the  roadside.  I  see 
the  man  of  truth  and  courage  languish 
ing  in  the  dungeon — Christ  nailed  to  the 
tree;  Socrates  condemned  to  drink  the 
fatal  cup.  I  see  the  untimely  dropping 
of  buds  and  young  fruits.  I  see  the  trust 
ing  heart  betrayed  and  left  desolate.  I 
see  every  creature  preyed  upon  by  some 
other  creature.  - 

Innocent  Joy  AUGUST  27.  Innocent  joy  is  the  realiza- 
a  Phoenix  tion  of  the  fable  of  the  phoenix.  It  is 
the  only  state  that  possesses  the  inherent 
power  of  renewing  itself.  All  other  states 
wear  themselves  out;  joy  alone  persists, 
because  it  is  a  state  of  holiness,  or, 
wholeness.  Joy  is  the  essence  of  Eternal 
Life. 

Hope  AUGUST  28.  The  nature  of  Hope  is  child- 
and  Faith  like.  She  breathes  of  the  innocence  of 
ignorance.  She  knows  not  Truth,  hence 
Watts  represents  her  as  blindfolded. 
There  lingers  about  her  garments  the 
scent  of  wild  flowers,  and  the  fresh  air 
of  the  fields  of  childhood's  immaturity. 
She  is  light-hearted  and  merry  as  the 
child  is  playful  and  sunny-tempered. 

38 


TRANSPLANTATION 

Faith  is  god-like.  Hope  is  mortal, 
wayward.  She  frolics  beside  us  in  our 
hours  of  ease,  and  in  our  seasons  of 
weakness  we  need  this  sunny  child  of 
the  human  breast  to  chase  away  our 
gloom,  to  soothe  the  days  of  peevishness 
and  care.  Do  not  take  this  sweet  child 
from  us!  We  need  her  smiles,  her  inno 
cent  prattle  in  the  April  seasons  of  life, 
before  the  Soul  has  grown  strong  enough 
to  journey  up  the  Heights  reached  only 
by  the  austere  virtues  of  Reason,  by 
strong  souls  in  seasons  of  achievement, 
there  to  grasp  the  hand  of  Faith  as  she 
stands  alone,  sublime,  crowned  by  the 
everlasting  spaces  and  the  stars. 

OCTOBER  17.     I  heard  the   Boston   Sym-  Beethoven's 
phony  Orchestra,  in  concert,  on  the  even-  Eighth 
ing  of  the  15th  at  Memorial  Hall.     What  Symphony 
were  my  emotions  on  entering  that  tem 
ple    dedicated   to   the   memory   of  those 
who  had  fought  and  died  fighting  against 
my  beloved  country,  my  beloved  South 
land!    Did  the  Soul  receive  a  jar?    While 
listening    to    Beethoven's    Eighth    Sym 
phony  I  freely  forgave.     Reconciliation 
passed  into  my  heart,  not  alone  to  the 
soldiery  dead,  but  to  those  also  who  had 
cast  the  mud  of  brutal  insult  upon  the 
Soul's    fairest    part.      Peace    descended, 
clasped     my     hand     and     led     me    up! 

39 


TRANSPLANTATION 

Beethoven  said,  "He  to  whom  my  music 
reveals  its  whole  significance  is  lifted 
up  above  all  the  sorrows  of  the  world." 

The  Holy  OCTOBER  18.  I  close  not  my  window 
Stars  curtains,  for  I  will  not  shut  out  the  most 
that  I  can  see  of  Beauty.  In  the  day 
there  are  the  sky,  the  sun  and  the  clouds. 
At  night  there  are  the  moon,  the  holy 
stars  and  the  mysteries  of  space. 
And  why  are  the  stars  called  "holy?" 
Because  they  bring  truths.  Aye,  the  little 
earth,  the  gravel,  and  the  sand  bring 
truths  also.  Nay,  but  the  stars  bring 
truths  illimitable,  infinite.  Therefore 
are  they  called  holy. 

ToEest  FEBRUARY  18,  1891.  To  rest  means  to 
stop  all  conscious,  voluntary  activities, 
withdrawing  attention  from  everything 
and  turning  the  whole  mind  toward  the 
realization  of  the  truth  that  there  is  no 
life  save  the  divine  life  which  flows 
into  and  fills  all  things  continually,  and 
then,  just  to  let  that  life  flow  in  and 
fill  you  consciously. 

A  Methodical  FEBRUARY  19.  The  thought  of  a  methodi- 
Life  cal  life  grows  within  the  Soul.  What 
then  shall  be  her  life-work?  It  must 
be  one  for  which  she  may  be  fitted  by 
nature  and  opportunity.  She  believes 
that  she  belongs  to  the  dumb  species. 
What  then  can  she  work  at?  Nature 

40 


TRANSPLANTATION 

has  given  her  the  great  heart  overflow-  A  Methodical 
ing  with  love  and  compassion  for  all  Life 
things.  Though  born  and  reared  in  the 
so-called  "aristocratic"  station  in  life, 
her  heart  turns  from  that  to  the  so-called 
"common"  people  with  love  and  sym 
pathy.  It  is  their  need  she  understands; 
their  joy  and  sorrow  which  touch  her 
most  deeply.  She  often  shrinks  from 
contact  with  the  "upper"  classes — those 
"lesser  barbarians,"  as  Garlyle  calls  them 
— because  of  their  frivolous,  not  to  say 
brutal,  pastimes;  their  self-assumed  su 
periority  over  the  great  mass  of  the 
people.  The  folly,  the  injustice  of  it 
all  comes  over  her  like  a  flood  that  will 
sweep  the  last  vestige  of  it  from  her 
own  heart. 

The  great  Mother  has  enwrapped  the 
Soul  in  an  atmosphere  of  ideal  harmony, 
the  temper  of  which  is  all  too  sensitive 
for  the  ordinary  associations  of  life. 
Circumstance  and  sorrow  have  cut  the 
ties  of  the  usual  family  experience.  The 
great  Mother's  voice  is  heard  calling, 
"Thou  art  separated  that  thou  shalt  do 
thy  work  for  my  desolate  children.  'The 
fields  are  white  to  the  harvest  and  the 
laborers  are  few.' " 

MARCH  5.  The  evening  star  shining  in 
glory,  undimmed  by  the  crescent  moon 

41 


TRANSPLANTATION 

To  the  — the  evening  star  and  the  Lonely  Human 
Condemned  Soul.      Beauty    and    Silence    are   the    re 
ligion  of  the  hour. 

The  Soul  bows  her  head.  She  asks  to  be 
shown  her  work.  Nature  declares  it 
shall  be  in  prisons  where  the  condemned 
sit  alone,  friendless  and  unpitied. 
"Go  thou  to  them.  Be  thou  the  friend 
of  the  friendless.  Take  thy  free  gift  of 
pity  and  love.  Show  thou  the  face  of 
Truth,  that  looking  upon  her  the  sorrow 
ful  may  be  healed  and  made  glad." 
O  God!  canst  thou  give  strength  for  this? 
The  Soul  sensitive  to  every  impression, 
even  to  suffering  keenly  from  ordinary 
contacts  in  life,  can  she  become  strong 
to  enter  the  condemned  cell  and  to  have 
fellowship  with  criminals?  Courage 
abandons  her. 

"The  criminal  is  thy  brother,  thy  poor, 
untaught,  hungry,  naked  brother.  For 
him,  as  for  thee,  the  evening  star  shines 
in  glory,  and  Beauty  and  Silence  to 
gether  descend  from  the  heavens  upon 
the  earth." 

The  Day  MARCH  6.    The  state  of  ill  health  can  not 

of  Peace  last — the  state  of  ill-at-easement  of  Soul 

at  Hand  and   body.     All   will   be   well  when   the 

Soul  shall  arrive  at  her  proper  relations 

with   Life — when   perfect   connection   is 

made  between  the  spirit  and  Spirit. 

42 


TRANSPLANTATION 

The  day  of  peace  is  at  hand — the  day 
of  health,  of  silent  joy,  of  great  working 
power — when  eyes  and  hands  and  lips 
shall  become  as  active  as  hitherto  have 
been  only  the  brain  and  the  abounding, 
suffering  heart.  Ah,  the  Soul  has  striven 
all  her  life  to  reach  such  a  harmony  of 
living!  How  far  short  has  she  fallen! 
How  often  sunk  into  the  mire  of  folly! 
to  recover  herself  always,  never  to  be 
wholly  lost;  as  Christian  fell  into  the 
Slough  of  Despond,  yet  got  out  on  the 
side  toward  the  Celestial  City. 

MARCH  7.  Nature  makes  nothing  for  Beauty 
Beauty's  sake,  simply  to  be  beautiful. 
She  aims  not  at  Beauty,  for  Beauty  is 
not  outside  of  Nature.  She  makes  a 
flower,  a  tree,  a  sunset,  a  man,  a  woman. 
There  is  need  for  the  thing,  therefore 
it  is  produced  and  therefore  it  is  beau 
tiful;  for  Nature  is  Beauty.  Beauty 
means  perfect  adaptation,  perfect  fitness 
to  use.  There  is  purpose  in  the  color 
on  a  rose  leaf,  or  in  the  milky  whiteness 
of  a  lily's  throat. 

MARCH  8.     I  am  filled  with  joy  on  see-  Branches 
ing  a  green  branch  waved  by  the  breeze;   and  Stars 
or   when   looking   at   the   stars    as   they 
swing  in  space,  moved  by  God's  thought, 
my  soul  stands  awed;  one  is  beautiful, 
the  other  is  sublime.     The  one  I  under- 

43 


TRANSPLANTATION 
stand;  the  other  is  beyond  my  compre 
hension,  being  lost  in  the  mists  and  mys 
teries  of  infinite  magnitude  and  distance. 

Walt  APRIL  10.     Walt  Whitman   died   on   the 
Whitman's  25th  of  March — a  great  soul  gone  else- 
Death  where! 

Goethe  APRIL  12.  In  his  loves  Goethe  expressed 
the  Romantic  spirit  in  its  extreme  stage; 
that  is  to  say,  individual  experience  was 
given  full  sway  without  regard  to  con 
trol  of  self  or  justice  toward  others; 
which  is  the  opposite  of  the  moral  soul 
who,  strong  in  his  individuality,  yet 
recognizes  the  claims  of  others  and  is 
all  the  stronger  for  so  doing;  who  is  the 
truly  social  character,  regarding  himself 
not  as  the  isolated  god  of  life  to  think 
and  act  according  as  his  own  sweet  will 
may  elect  from  moment  to  moment,  but 
rather  as  an  organic  member  of  one  uni 
versal,  divine  system  of  life.  Surely  the 
maxims  of  the  old  prophets  have  no  part 
in  Goethe's  loves — "To  do  justly  and  to 
love  mercy."  He  showed  neither  justice 
nor  mercy  to  the  unfortunate  women 
whom  he  adored  for  one  passing  hour 
only  to  desert  them  the  next. 
Love  should  be  the  outcome,  the  flower 
ing  of  a  soul  that  is  true  to  itself;  true 
to  the  principles  of  the  spiritual  life; 
faithful  as  are  the  stars  in  their  courses. 

44 


TRANSPLANTATION 

APRIL  19.  How  wonderful  is  the  human  The  Body 
body!  What  a  marvelous  apparatus  for 
the  uses  of  the  indwelling  spirit!  What 
admirable  adjustments!  What  conveni 
ent  appliances!  The  feet  to  the  legs,  the 
toes  to  the  feet,  the  nails  to  the  toes. 
The  eyes  to  the  brain — that  marvelous 
workshop  where  is  wrought  out  the 
ideas.  Finer  workmanship  is  done  there 
than  is  executed  with  rare  skill  by  gold 
and  silver  artisan,  by  miniature  painter, 
or  by  the  grinder  of  great  lenses  where 
with  to  see  that  which  eye  hath  not 
seen. 

I  am  awed  when  I  think  of  the  number 
less  cycles  that  were  needed  in  which 
to  complete  this  perfect  shape  moulded 
by  the  indwelling  spirit  struggling  for 
expression  in  the  world. 

APRIL  20.  Life  appears  to  us  in  mo-  Great  Truths 
ments  which  are  always  fleeting;  but  just 
as  there  is  a  perpetual  daybreak,  a  per 
petual  noonday,  a  perpetual  midnight  as 
the  earth  wheels  on  her  everlasting  flight 
among  the  stars,  so  do  there  abide  the 
Great  Truths,  although  we  see  them  not 
in  the  swift  and  changing  thoughts  of 
time. 

APRIL  21.     The  Soul  will  say  why  it  is   The  Ocean 
that  she  loves  the   ocean   with  so   deep 
and    undying   love.      It    is    because    the 

45 


T  R  A  X  S  P  L  A  N  T  A  T I O  N 
ocean  is  the  symbol  of  her  inner  life — 
eternally  restless,  unfathomable,  omnivo 
rous,  illimitable! 

The  Storm  APRIL  24.  The  day  is  fair,  but  within 
Is  Raging  the  inner  world — this  human  microcos- 
mos — the  storm  is  raging — pain,  weak 
ness,  sorrow.  The  Soul  will  be  faithful. 
She  will  say,  "Though  thou  slay  me,  yet 
will  I  trust  in  thee."  She  will  look  to 
spiritual  power  for  her  ease,  for  her 
strength,  for  her  consolation.  In  pain, 
yet  she  shall  know  quietness.  In  weak 
ness,  she  shall  have  strength.  In  sorrow, 
she  will  kiss  the  cheek  of  joy. 

Butterflies  JULY  28.  This  is  the  time  of  the  butter 
flies.  I  see  them,  with  their  great,  black 
wings  spotted  over  with  yellow,  flutter 
ing  and  hovering  over  the  sweet  phlox 
blooms.  I  see  the  small,  pure-white  but 
terflies,  often  two,  sometimes  three  to 
gether,  seeming  at  play  with  each  other, 
there  is  such  whirling  up  and  down, 
coming  together  in  apparent  kisses,  flut 
tering  away  again,  and  round  and  round 
each  other,  up  and  down,  sideways,  for 
ward,  backward,  in  some  delicious  dance 
of  lightness,  grace  and  joy. 

The  Morning's  AUGUST   22.      I   sit   outdoors   by   the    old 

Baptism  of  hedge,   among  the   grasses   all   wet  with 

Light  and  Life  yesterday's  rain.     The  Soul  is  beginning 

to  hold  herself  erect,  self-poised  because 

46 


TRANSPLANTATION 

pivoted  on  God.  The  forces  of  Nature 
sustain  me.  I  refuse  to  remain  indoors. 
I  need  the  outdoor  communion — the 
morning's  baptism  of  light  and  life  from 
the  open  sky  upon  my  naked  soul.  As 
regards  the  body,  what  are  a  few  trifling 
sensations  that  try  to  force  themselves 
upon  my  notice,  to  the  inflowing  of 
divine  life  of  which  I  am  conscious  as 
filling  my  entire  being. 

AUGUST  23.     Great  souls  see  divinity  in   Divinity  in 
monotony;    in   plain   and   simple   things.   Monotony 
Kant   was   not  bored   by   a   monotonous 
life.     He  never  went  out  of  the  district 
in  which  he  was  born,   and  he  passed 
outwardly  a  monotonous  existence,  doing 
the  same  things  day  in  and  day  out,  as 
the  sun  and  the  moon  and  the  earth  do 
the  same  things. 

Only  vacant  minds  are  bored  by  monot 
ony.  It  is  themselves  with  whom  they 
are  bored.  The  mind  rich  in  thought 
possesses  not  one  kingdom  only,  but  all 
kingdoms  for  its  own. 

AUGUST  24.  This  growing  into  one-ness  My  Miracles 
with  the  universe:  this  being  fitted  to 
one's  place  in  Nature — the  infinite  build 
ing  not  made  with  hands — as  the  stone 
is  chipped  by  the  mason  and  fitted  into 
its  proper  place  in  the  human  habita 
tion:  this  swelling  and  bursting  of  the 

47 


TRANSPLANTATION 

spiritual  seed-pod:  this  reaching  out 
of  the  Soul's  antennae  to  receive  the 
thrill  that  comes  from  personal  touch 
with  the  Spirit  of  the  universe:  these 
silent  yet  potent  moments  of  revelation 
— ah,  these  are  the  miracles  I  believe  in! 
The  Soul  who  knows  them  has  some 
what  to  say,  if  she  find  words. 

The  Little  Hen  SEPTEMBER  7.  I  listen  to  the  little  hen 
as  she  sings  her  psalm  of  content,  in  one 
long-drawn  crescendo  note,  followed  by 
staccatos  in  quick  succession.  There  is 
a  rasping  quality  in  her  tone  as  though 
her  throat  were  some  rude  violin  made 
of  a  gourd,  having  the  notes  and  pitch 
but  not  the  timbre  of  the  violin — as  she 
sings  her  psalm  of  content. 


The  Winter 
of  the  Heart 


As  One  of 

the  Stars  of 

Heaven 


SEPTEMBER  11.  The  Lonely  Human  Soul 
is  faltering  today.  Her  world  is  the 
desolation  of  desolation  and  scarcely  to 
be  borne  are  the  voices  of  the  little 
crickets  in  the  grass — harbingers  of  a 
yet  distant  winter.  They  tell  of  the 
winter  of  the  heart  where  only  echoes 
of  Love's  death-song  may  be  heard. 

SEPTEMBER  12.  Oh,  may  thy  life  with 
"all  its  crimes  upon  thy  head,"  with  all 
its  poor  failures,  yet  become  useful  and 
shine  out  with  the  beauty  of  holiness, 
for  thou  dost  not  cease  to  "strive  on 
with  unswerving  will:"  even  as  the  little 

48 


TRANSPLANTATION 

earth,  though  carrying  upon  her  bosom 
her  black  load  of  sorrow  and  despair, 
yet  shines  to  other  worlds  as  one  of  the 
stars  of  heaven! 

SEPTEMBER  13.    The  unconquerable  pride  The  Pride 
and  self-poise  of  genius — does   it   come  and  Self -Poise 
from    the    consciousness    of    possessing  of  Genius 
superior  talents,  or  from  excess  of  sensi 
tiveness    required    for    genius,    or    from 
both?     The  man  or  woman  of  genius — 
they  do  not  seek  confidence  and  affec 
tion.     Their  natures  silently  make  their 
demand.     Where    they    do    not    receive, 
they  are  as  an  exile  in  the  world,  or  as  an 
alien  shut  out  from  his  proper  dominion. 
They  can  not  go  out  to  ask  for  that  which 
yet  they  need.     The  kings  of  the  earth 
may  not  become  her  beggars. 

SEPTEMBER  14.    My  mind  is  omnivorous.  A  Mind 
My  difficulty  in  acquiring  knowledge  is  Omnivorous 
that  I  can  hardly  confine  my  attention  to 
any   one   special   study.     I   desire   phil 
osophy,    the    sciences,    poetry,    history, 
general   literature   all   at   once,   with   an 
impatience  hard  to  control;  in  fact,  I  am 
troubled  with  an   appetite   greater  than 
I  have  digestive  powers  to  take  charge  of. 

SEPTEMBER  15.     Poetry  engages  intellect  Poetry  Versus 
and  heart.    Science  engages  only  the  in-  Science 
tellect.     Poetry   needs   facts,   ideas    and 
feelings,   science   only   facts   and   ideas. 

49 


TRANSPLANTATION 

Poetry  gives  expression  to  emotions  of 
love  and  reverence;  science  has  no  emo 
tions.  Science  looks  at  a  flower  merely 
as  an  object  and  describes  it,  poetry  sees 
a  flower  as  a  living  being  and  recognizes 
its  relations  in  the  bonds  of  sympathy 
to  universal  life.  Science  is  the  world 
of  description,  poetry  the  world  of  in 
sight.  Science  knows  not  beauty.  Poetry 
sees  nothing  apart  from  beauty.  Science 
requires  the  analytic  faculty,  poetry  the 
receptive. 

Sudden  Events  SEPTEMBER  16.  What  we  call  sudden 
events  are  simply  those  moments  when 
that  which  has  already  existed  becomes 
visible. 


50 


Unfolding' 

The  Soul  stands  upon 

the  threshold  of  the  next  and  final 

stage  of  a  grand  philosophical 

faith  and  vital  religion. 


UNFOLDING 

MARCH  5,  1892.  The  soul  is  awaking  The  Soul 
more  and  more  fully.  She  is  real-izing 
life;  seeing  that  the  divine  nature  of 
things  is  the  only  actuality.  She  is  ar 
riving  at  her  freedom.  Little  now  re 
mains  which  can  give  her  offense.  For 
merly  she  was  vulnerable  at  all  points, 
a  poor,  weak  creature  indeed,  who  might 
fall  a  prey  at  any  moment  to  the  smallest 
incident  or  accident  of  life — the  fa 
miliarity  of  a  servant,  or  of  a  "common" 
person,  any  slight  or  neglect  from  a  per 
son  of  fashion,  any  act  of  injustice  to 
ward  her,  any  under-valuation  of  her 
powers  and  personal  qualities.  None  of 
these  things  can  now  humiliate  or  hurt 
the  Soul.  The  barriers  are  gone.  She 
now  regards  the  "common"  people  as 
her  equals.  She  desires  their  confidence 
and  friendship.  She  desires  to  draw 
near  to  them  as  one  of  them.  As  for  the 
person  of  fashion,  he  or  she  is  seen  to 

53 


UNFOLDING 

be  only  an  object  of  pity,  whom  the 
Soul  desires  to  lift  out  of  the  mire  of 
folly  and  vanity  if  possible.  Any  act  of 
injustice  done  to  the  Soul  she  regards 
as  an  opportunity  for  the  practice  of 
virtue,  as  a  test  whether  or  no  she  pos 
sesses  the  true  spirit  of  humility,  if  she 
can  bear  with  patience  and  without  bit 
terness  to  be  thought  ill  of,  reminding 
herself  how  much  nearer  the  truth  such 
an  estimation  is  than  that  conveyed  by 
words  of  praise  and  flattery.  For  after 
all  the  Lonely  Human  Soul  is  but  a  poor 
creature  struggling  upward — a  little  worm 
crawling  up  a  mountain.  To  be  spoken 
of  as  a  worm  struggling  in  the  dust  would 
be  nearer  the  truth  than  to  be  called  an 
angel  of  light. 

Soul  APRIL  22.  A  terrible  impatience  has 
Travail  possessed  the  Soul  of  late.  She  feels  that 
she  can  not  wait  for  Nature  to  do  her 
work.  Shut  within  her  room,  which  ap 
pears  as  the  cell  of  a  convict,  the  sounds 
of  outside  life  come  to  her.  She  hears 
the  busy  hammers  of  the  house-builders, 
merry  whistlings  of  young  men  and  boys 
as  they  pass  rapidly  by.  She  knows, 
too,  of  the  beauty  of  the  springtime,  of 
the  bursting  of  the  buds  and  the  silent 
process  of  the  robing  of  the  trees.  But 
none  of  these  things  are  for  her.  Alone, 

54 


walled   in,   she  lies   stretched  upon  her  Soul 
bed  of  pain.  Travail 

The  Soul  will  arise  from  this  low  plane 
of  suffering  and  fear  up  to  the  Heights 
where  Epictetus  lived,  where  Emerson 
lived,  where  the  Saints  and  Prophets  of 
old  lived.  She  will  learn  self-denial 
and  a  wise  and  loving  obedience  to  the 
Cosmic  Order. 

She  will  look  up  at  the  little  picture  of 
the  sea  hanging  on  the  wall.  She  will 
gaze  in  imagination  far  out  toward  the 
Ocean  of  Truth  upon  whose  shores  she 
now  stands.  She  will  listen  to  the  sound 
of  the  surf  rolling  in,  bringing  freedom 
and  consolation  to  her  here  entangled  in 
the  net  of  sorrow. 

MAY  2.  The  voice  of  the  oriole  sounds 
like  the  cry  of  a  lost  spirit  for  its  Beloved 
One.  In  the  midst  of  the  marvelous 
beauty  of  this  season  the  Lonely  Human 
Soul  lies  scourged  and  imprisoned.  Shall 
not  these  stripes  become  her  pathway 
leading  up  to  the  Verities? 

MAY  3.  How  is  it  possible  to  rise  so  com 
pletely  above  bodily  pain,  unfavorable 
surroundings,  and  the  heart's  sorrow  as 
to  be  not  only  equable  but  cheerful  and 
at  peace? 

Did  Epictetus,  did  Socrates  achieve  this, 
or  was  it  that  they,  too,  only  saw  Truth 

55 


UNFOLDING 

which  might  be  attained,  yet  fell  short 
of  it  in  their  daily  practice  of  virtue, 
just  as  I  fall  short? 

When  the  Soul  lies  in  the  Valley  of 
Humiliation,  every  sound  is  interpreted 
by  the  imagination  as  a  note  of  sadness. 
The  voices  of  the  mating  birds  wound 
her  heart.  The  sounds  of  the  noisy  car 
penters  harrow  the  mind  that  has  no 
home.  The  heavens  which  hold  the  sun 
of  life's  blessings,  sink  beneath  the 
horizon,  and  the  night-side  alone  is  vis 
ible,  without  a  star  of  consolation,  and 
the  storm  rages,  and  the  Soul  is  beaten 
and  tossed  by  the  tempest. 
Stand  firm,  O  Soul!  lest  thou  be  found 
not  worthy  to  preach  the  great  Truths 
when  the  hour  shall  arrive  and  thou  wilt 
arise  in  freedom  to  go  forth  into  the 
world.  If  thou  livest  not  for  Truth,  thou 
wouldst  better  die.  To  live  to  eat  and  to 
sleep  would  be  a  shame — just  so  much 
room  in  the  world  taken  up,  and  by  an 
unfruitful  fig  tree,  which  shall  be  cut 
down  and  cast  into  the  fire. 

The  Ideal  MAY  4-    When  I  visited  the  Convent,  one 
Vision  of  sweet  Sister  told  me  that  whenever  she 
the  Universe  was    not    engaged    in    active    duties    she 
escaped  to  the  Chapel  to  visit  the  "Blessed 
Sacrament;"  and  so  will  I,  when  disen 
gaged  and  alone,  yield  up  the  eyes  of  my 

56 


UNFOLDING 

soul  to  contemplation  of  the  Blessed 
Sacrament  of  the  Ideal  Vision  of  the  Uni 
verse.  I  lie  prostrate  and  adoring  in  the 
Real  Presence  of  this  beauteous  picture 
of  Spiritual  Immensities.  I  desire  to  be 
come  in  harmony  with  this  Reality.  I 
find  my  rest  in  contemplation. 

MAY  10.  All  the  energies  must  now  go  to  Drifting 
the  healing  of  the  wounded  parts.  I  have 
not  been  able  to  study  for  months  and 
can  read  but  little,  just  lying  all  day,  in 
half  sleeping,  half  wraking  state;  drifting, 
drifting,  farther  and  farther  toward  the 
deep  current  of  Divine  Being,  with  an 
ever  increasing  realization  of  the  truth 
that  all  things  are  the  expression  of  in 
telligence,  the  young  leaf  that  comes 
forth  from  the  woody  branch,  as  well  as 
myself. 

I  seem  to  be  passing  through  some  pro 
cess  of  death,  slowly  dying,  inch  by  inch, 
day  by  day,  hour  by  hour,  moment  by 
moment;  dying  to  the  old  life  to  awaken 
to  the  new.  I  am  nerveless.  An  irresisti 
ble  indifference  and  lack  of  power  for 
action  takes  possession  of  me.  As  the 
seaweed  floats  on  the  bosom  of  the  ocean, 
so  do  I  lie  upon  the  bosom  of  the  great 
deep  of  divine  Life — drifting,  drifting. 

MAY  11.  Beside  me  stands  a  jar  of  apple 
blossoms;  another  of  the  purple  lilac  and 

57 


UNFOLDING 

The  Bleeding  the  lovely  red  wings  off  the  maple  trees. 
Heart  On  my  desk  stands  a  large  bunch  of  dog 
wood  twigs,  pine  and  spirea.  On  the 
bookcase,  wild  honeysuckles,  wild  pan- 
sies  and  the  bleeding  heart — the  bleeding 
heart.  Oh,  the  bleeding  heart!  Is  there 
consciousness  in  these  exquisite  blos 
soms? 

An  Inrush  MAY  12.  I  wish  I  could  describe  the  state 
of  Power  of  my  thought  and  feeling.  At  times  I 
am  aware  of  an  immense  inrush  of 
power,  an  enormous  storing  up  of 
energy  to  think,  to  feel,  to  do,  to  go;  to 
start  off  on  long  foot  journeys,  to  tramp 
over  native  and  foreign  countries,  ming 
ling  with  the  people;  to  engage  in  social 
work,  where  I  shall  receive  wings,  the 
wings  of  good  health,  where  there  will 
be  no  longer  consciousness  of  the  body's 
machinery  to  put  in  motion,  but  con 
sciousness  only  of  will  and  thought  to  do. 

The  Soul's  JUNE  6.  The  Soul  is  visited  by  moments 
Contentment  of  exquisite  happiness.  She  knows  not 
from  whence  they  come.  Outward  cir 
cumstances  are  not  such  as  to  warrant 
these  glimpses  of  the  Soul's  serenity — the 
serenity  of  Beethoven' s  Pastoral  Sym 
phony — nevertheless  the  heavens  open 
above  and  shower  upon  her  moments 
of  sweetest  bliss — the  Soul's  content 
ment. 

58 


UNFOLDING 

The  Soul  fears  not  ennui,  for  time  is 
not  long  enough  for  the  lover  of  all 
things.  She  fears  not  the  future.  She 
rests  in  faith  that  the  good  she  earns  is 
coming  with  the  process  of  the  suns, 
and  the  honest  Soul  ought  to  ask  no 
more.  She  fears  not  treachery.  The 
heart  may  not  again  place  her  fully 
garnered  store  all  in  one  frail  granary. 
She  fears  not  death,  for  death  is  the  arms 
of  Nature ! 

JUNE  7.  The  blooming  of  my  grapevine  The  Blooming 
is  accomplished.  Beneath  the  broad,  of  the  Grape 
green  leaves  this  silent  and  divine  drama 
was  enacted.  All  that  I  saw  or  was  sen 
sible  of  was  that  a  halo  of  pale  gold  rays 
came  forth  and  a  delicious  fragrance 
filled  the  air.  The  gold  vanished  and  the 
scent  was  gone  and  all  was  done.  The 
marriage  rite  was  solemnized  and  life 
was  given,  so  silent,  so  potent  and  so 
beautiful.  Would  that  human  life  might 
be  like  this! 

JUNE  12.  I  lie  out  under  the  open  sky,  to  Clouds 
watch  the  silent  dignity  of  the  clouds  as 
they  come  up  over  the  mountain.  First 
there  is  a  mere  speck  or  rim  of  white, 
or  a  little  peak  jutting  above  the  green 
crest,  rising  higher  every  moment,  grow 
ing  larger  and  larger  until  a  great  cloud 
looms  up  ana  sails  away  to  the  zenith. 

59 


UNFOLDING 

What  grand  leisure,  what  freedom  in  the 
motions  of  the  clouds,  forever  expanding 
and  moving  onward!  How  they  are  con 
tinually  changing,  separating,  rearrang 
ing,  melting  into  one  another,  combin 
ing  into  new  forms,  shaping  great  conti 
nents  and  huge  mountains,  islets  and 
fragments  of  vaporous  stuff,  like  "the 
baseless  fabric  of  a  dream."  They  seem 
to  be  alive.  They  are  the  thoughts  of 
the  sky,  and  the  stars  are  its  memories! 

Doves'  Voices  JUNE  16.  The  air  is  full  of  the  music  of 
the  doves'  languishing  voices.  They  seem 
to  be  the  sighs  of  love  coming  up  from 
out  the  great  heart  of  Nature — that  great 
bosom  of  love  too  full  to  be  repressed. 
I  look  to  see  the  green  grass  heave  in 
rhythmical  breaths  as  I  listen  to  those 
love-notes  which  move  my  soul  to  tears 
of  tenderness. 

Why  the  JUNE  17.     Life  would  not  be  worth  the 
World  Is  living,  worth  the  pain  and  struggle,  were 
So  Beautiful  ft   not    for   jov>   the    joy    of   loving   and 
being  loved.    This  is  why  the  world  is  so 
beautiful — a   fitting  palace   in   which  to 
celebrate  the  marriage  of  souls,  the  wed 
dings  of  spirit  comrades. 

Robins  JUNE  22.  The  air  is  resounding  with  the 
jubilate  shouts  of  the  robins.  Two  little 
red-breasted  bird-men  are  shouting  at 
once  and  the  chorus  beats  anything  I 

60 


UNFOLDING 

ever  heard.  The  high  pitch,  the  precis 
ion  of  the  notes,  the  sweetness  of  tone, 
the  volubility,  the  lusty  vigor,  the  ram 
pant  spirits,  the  positive  gladness  of  it 
all,  produces  an  impression  upon  me 
which  is  actually  exciting.  I  am  told  that 
these  concerts  celebrate  the  occasions  of 
hatching  out  of  the  young.  What  hymns 
of  joy  they  seem  to  be!  O,  thou  Little 
Brother,  thou  dost  teach  this  poor,  low- 
spirited  heart  to  look  up  and  be  thank 
ful! 

JUNE  23.    Years  of  pain  and  solitary  con-  is  the  Bitter 

finement  become  the  season  of  the  Soul's  Sweet  Today? 

purgation.     Is  the  bitter  sweet  today,  O 

Soul? 

It  is  not  altogether  bitter. 

JULY  3.     A  little  moment  of  divine  life  A  Little 

came  to  the  Soul  this  afternoon.    She  was  Moment  of 

content   to    suffer   and    to    wait    for   the  Divine  Life 
fulness  of  time. 

JULY  5.    The  pine  tree  changes  with  the  The  Pine  Tree 
hours  of  the  day. 

In  the  morning  it  stands  dark  and  mys 
terious  against  the  eastern  sky,  like  the 
young  poet  waiting  for  fame. 
At  mid-day  it  is  crowned  with  a  pale 
gold  shower  of  light — the  voice  of  the 
people's  acclamation — and  the  mysteri 
ous  shadows  have  retreated  within  its 
depths  of  trunk  and  branch,  as  the  most 

61 


UNFOLDING 

sensitive  thought  retires  into  the  depths 
of  the  heart  before  the  glare  of  the 
world. 

At  evening,  from  the  west,  the  sun  shines 
upon  the  young  blossoming  cones,  and 
behold!  the  tree  is  hung  with  a  thousand 
tapers  of  light,  as  the  sun  sets  and  night 
comes  down  from  the  sky. 
It  is  the  smile  of  the  Holy  One,  crowned 
and  blessed,  who  is  bidding  farewell  to 
the  world. 

The  Life  of  JULY  6.  My  mind  seems  to  have  a  life  of 
the  Mind  its  own,  distinct  from  the  life  of  the 
body.  I  do  not  lose  consciousness  of  dis 
eased  conditions,  yet  at  times  it  almost 
seems  to  be  the  body  of  some  other  per 
son,  so  free,  independent  and  rejoicing 
is  the  life  of  the  mind. 

Brain  and  JULY  12.  As  the  ear  is  but  the  physical 
Spirit  contrivance,  by  means  of  which  the 
slower  ether  waves  are  transmitted  to 
the  brain,  so  may  the  brain  be  the  mere 
physical  contrivance  by  means  of  which 
matter  is  brought  into  contact  with 
spirit. 

The  JULY  18.  What  is  the  commonplace?  It 
Commonplace  is  thought  and  action  without  purpose, 
without  need.  Every  act  that  is  from 
necessity  has  its  poetical  aspect.  Only 
the  needless  act  is  without  poetry.  It  is 
mean  from  end  to  end.  Hence  all  af- 

62 


UNFOLDING 

fectations  are  commonplace  and  can  not 
become  poetical. 

JULY  19.  It  is  summer,  summer,  summer-  Summer 
land!  I  sit  on  the  little  porch  overhung 
with  grapevines,  in  wild  gracefulness 
untrimmed  by  the  pruning  knife.  Sun 
shine  floods  the  world.  A  dewdrop  sap 
phire  trembles  between  two  leaves.  Some 
tint  of  red  calls  to  my  eyes,  it  is  the 
clover-heads  standing  like  an  army  of 
little  soldiers,  each  one  proudly  holding 
up  his  gay-colored  helmet  to  the  sun. 
As  the  breeze  moves  over  the  spider  webs 
on  the  grass,  it  appears  as  a  magician 
who  conjures  up  silver  to  scatter  in 
shimmering  threads  as  he  goes.  In  the 
distance  the  green  dome  of  a  large  tree 
rises  against  the  sky;  nothing  is  more 
beautiful  than  the  tremors  of  the  morn 
ing  winds  there.  As  they  pass  along  each 
leaf,  the  tree  is  hung  with  tiny  bells  of 
light.  Radiant  spots  of  sunshine  are 
reflected  from  the  leaves  in  the  tops  of 
the  plum  tree,  forming  a  miniature  galaxy 
of  stars  arranged  in  clusters  and  festoons 
similar  to  the  suns  on  the  Milky  Way. 
Such  semblance  hath  all  things  in  Nature 
from  the  leaf  to  the  star! 

JULY  20.  What  I  believe  to  be  the  pro- 
foundest  truth  in  life  is  the  opposite  of 
the  dogma  of  Total  Depravity.  It  is  that 

63 


UNFOLDING 

A  Divine  instead  of  man's  thoughts  being  evil  con- 

Music  tinually  and  his  heart  desperately  wicked, 

the  deepest  note  in  his  constitution  to  be 

struck  is  one  that  will  give  out  a  divine 

music  and  no  chord  of  hell. 

An  Exquisite  AUGUST  20.     The  Poet  has  an   exquisite 

Pain  of  Soul  pain  of  the  Soul.     She  can   do  nothing 

but  lie  still  and  weep.     Life — Nature — is 

touching    her    with    infinite    grace    and 

beauty. 

Transmutation  AUGUST  30.  All  the  filth,  all  the  bad 
smells — all — belong  to  the  earth.  She  is 
able  to  take  care  of  all.  She  receives  all 
into  her  bosom,  as  the  heart  of  a  divine 
love  receives  back  with  forgiveness  the 
most  criminal  offender,  purifying,  regen 
erating. 

I  try  to  escape  from  these  noxious  things. 
They  do  not  belong  to  me.  But  they  be 
long  to  the  earth.  She  does  not  try  to 
escape  from  them.  They  are  hers.  In 
her  divine  life  she  transmutes  all  into  the 
good  of  her  own  uses.  May  not  I  too  be 
come  cosmic,  transmuting  evil  into  good, 
recreating  all  that  may  come  to  me,  as 
the  earth  recreates,  into  the  pure  gold 
of  a  divine  existence? 

The  Soulin  AUGUST  31.    The  Soul  is  passing  through 

Transition  a  transition  stage.     She  lies  as  the  seed 

in  the  ground  that  appears  to  die  before 

it  germinates  into  the  new  life.     There 

64 


UNFOLDING 

is  a  pause.  Thought  is  asleep.  When  it 
awakens,  it  will  be  to  a  new  and  higher 
interpretation  of  life;  the  old  agony 
passed  away;  the  fluctuations  of  hope 
and  despair  sunk  out  of  sight;  the  new 
life  of  faith  and  power  and  joy;  the  new 
interpretation  of  the  universe  in  its 
spiritual  significance. 

SEPTEMBER  3.  It  is  said  that  Moses  went  "Gods, 
up  into  the  mountain  and  received  the  Though  in 
divine  law.  I  say  that  I,  too,  go  up  into  the  Germ" 
the  mountain  and  receive  the  divine  law. 
I  am  called  a  skeptic  and  an  infidel.  I 
say  that  those  persons  who  so  speak  are 
themselves  skeptics  and  infidels  because 
they  say  that  only  a  few  persons,  who 
lived  thousands  of  years  ago,  were  in 
spired;  but  I  say  that  inspiration  is  tak 
ing  place  today.  They  draw  the  limit 
to  the  operation  of  divine  power,  while 
I  draw  no  limit  to  it.  They  say  that 
Jesus  only  was  the  Son  of  God,  and  I 
say  that  you  are  the  Son  of  God,  and  I 
am  the  Son  of  God  and  that  everyone  is 
the  Son  of  God  because  God  is  the  Father 
and  Creator  of  everyone.  Inspiration  is 
the  perception  of  Truth.  Inspiration  is 
here.  Receive  it.  Divinity  is  here. 
Use  it. 

SEPTEMBER  4.  Other  life  than  our  own 
we  call  "nature,"  such  as  the  cricket, 

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UNFOLDING 

The  Poetic  with  its  musical  and  solitary  note,  or 
Perspective  trees,  or  mountains  in  their  silent  beauty, 
and  that  nature  in  its  totality  appears 
clothed  in  a  garment  of  divine  peace. 
We  talk  of  love  for  Nature  as  though 
communion  with  her  brought  us  nearer 
to  God.  The  truth  is  that  Nature  ap 
pears  thus  majestic  because  she  is  not 
our  own  life.  We  are  at  a  sufficient  dis 
tance  from  her  to  see  with  the  poetic 
perspective.  We  can  look  with  dispas 
sionate  eyes  at  that  which  is  outside  and 
beyond  ourselves.  Could  we  view  it  from 
the  poetic  perspective  we  should  see  that 
our  own  existence  is  "nature"  and  that 
it,  too,  is  clothed  in  a  garment  of  divine 
beauty  and  peace.  Only  the  philosopher 
and  the  poet  can  discern  life  truly,  be 
cause  they  rise  to  those  heights  whence 
man  is  seen  in  his  divine  aspect. 

Resignation  SEPTEMBER  12.  The  Soul  is  sinking 
deeper  and  deeper  into  the  world  of  res 
ignation.  She  is  frequently  visited  by 
moments  of  spiritual  acceptance.  The 
hour  of  impatience,  of  rebellion,  of  bitter 
agony,  is  passing  away. 

A  Jar  of  SEPTEMBER   13.     I   lie   and   take   not   my 

Grasses  eves  off  a  jar  of  grasses  that  stands  upon 

my  table.    I  am  entranced  by  their  simple 

beauty.     I  will  be  still  and  at  peace,  as 

they  are  still  and  at  peace. 

66 


UNFOLDING 

OCTOBER  2.     Few  there  be  who  give  the  Stages  of 
Soul  food  to  eat,  or  drink  to  slake  her  the  Soul's 
thirst.     In  solitude  she  is  filled.     When   Unfolding 
alone,  then  is  she  fed  and  given  drink. 
Does   this   mean   that   the   Soul   receives 
more    from    herself    than    from    others? 
"The  Kingdom  of  Heaven  is  within  you," 
said  Christ. 

The  Soul  has  passed  through  all  stages 
of  unfolding  which  the  intellectual  de 
velopment  of  the  world  has  experienced, 
She  has  had  her  emergence  out  of  un 
consciousness;  her  stage  of  ignorance  and 
mere  sensation  when  she  began  to  look 
about  her;  her  period  of  absolute  cre 
dulity,  followed  by  that  of  wonder  and 
doubt,  and  her  flood  of  revolt  and  skep 
ticism  which  swept  all  before  it — all  the 
accumulations  of  false  beliefs.  After  that 
came  the  period  in  which  was  developed 
the  habit  of  a  slow  and  painstaking  ef 
fort  to  gather  knowledge,  at  which  time 
a  cold  and  critical  materialism  predom 
inated.  The  Soul  cried  aloud,  but  Nature 
was  dead  and  gave  no  reply.  She  is  now 
well  advanced  in  the  scientific  stage.  She 
is  putting  into  its  proper  place  each  fact, 
slowTly  accumulated  during  the  years. 
She  is  learning  to  generalize  and  begin 
ning  to  grasp  principles.  It  is  now  a  de 
lightful  occupation  to  think.  As  each 
idea  appears,  she  places  it  in  its  proper 

67 


UNFOLDING 

setting.  It  is  like  making  mosaic  pic 
tures  and  seeing  each  stone  drop  into  its 
proper  place.  Instead  of  the  old  pain 
and  despair,  comes  the  delight  of  creat 
ing  her  world,  as  the  painter  sees  his 
canvas  begin  to  breathe,  or  the  sculptor 
is  enraptured  when  he  beholds  the  marble 
assuming  the  outlines  and  activities  of 
life.  The  Soul  stands  upon  the  threshold 
of  the  next  and  final  stage  of  a  grand 
philosophical  faith  and  vital  religion. 

The  Poet  OCTOBER  3.  The  poet  is  not  occupied  with 
his  own  individual  interests,  as  is  the 
practical  man.  The  poet  becomes  all 
persons  and  all  things.  Through  sym 
pathy  he  loses  himself  in  other  lives. 
He  lies  out  in  the  sunshine  seemingly 
idle.  In  reality  he  is  working  with  the 
laborer,  down  in  the  ditch  digging  to  lay 
the  water  pipes;  or  he  is  playing  with 
the  school  children  at  recess,  until  the 
school  bell  rings  to  call  them  back  to 
tasks,  and  the  voices  at  play  are  hushed. 
He  sees  the  distant  home  of  one  he  loves. 
He  lives  the  newly  wedded  life.  He 
brings  to  all  the  elements  of  love  and  sym 
pathy.  He  is  the  personal  friend  of  the 
near  pine  tree.  He  responds  to  its  in 
vitation  to  come  and  dwell  with  it. 

OCTOBER  4.  Poetry  involves  abstract 
ideas.  I  hear  a  child's  merry  laugh.  It 

68 


UNFOLDING 

becomes  poetry  for  me  only  as  the  sound  Poetry 
suggests  the  idea  of  a  child's  merry  laugh  Involves 
as  an  element  in  life;  that  is  to  say,  the  Abstract 
concrete  idea  of  the  individual  laugh  Ideas 
must  be  lifted  into  the  abstract  idea  of 
any  child's  laugh.  The  particular  must 
be  seen  in  the  light  of  its  universal,  and 
restored  again  to  its  particularity,  refined 
and  purified,  bringing  back  higher  and 
enlarged  relations.  "Fine  distinctions  are 
prosaic,"  says  Novalis.  Poetry  needs 
broader  touches.  Having  thrown  the 
light  of  the  universal  upon  the  particular, 
in  other  words,  having  carried  up  the 
concrete  idea  into  the  region  of  the  ab 
stract,  the  poet  descends  again.  He  as 
cended  only  to  fasten  the  object  of 
thought  to  its  proper  background,  as  a 
picture  is  hung  in  the  true  light  that  it 
may  be  seen  to  the  best  advantage.  He 
comes  down  again  to  behold  the  thought 
in  its  new  and  proper  light. 

OCTOBER  5.     I  am  reading  "Songs  Before  Swinburne 

Sunrise."    What  a  day  it  is  for  me!    The 

book  has  lain  a  year  on  my  shelf,  not 

even  the  leaves  cut.    I  did  not  dream  that 

this  poet  would  so  awaken  my  soul.     I 

am  one  with  him  in  his  love  of  freedom, 

— intellectual     freedom     from     binding 

cords  of  creed  and  dogma — freedom  and 

love  for  all.     I  am  one  with  him  in  his 

69 


UNFOLDING 

Swinburne  fearless  truth-speaking;  in  his  condemna 
tion  of  the  power  of  kings  and  nobles 
over  the  people;  of  the  unjust  claims  of 
mere  caste;  of  priestcraft  and  of  time- 
and-place-serving. 

Swinburne  is  for  me  a  poet  because  he 
voices  what  is  in  my  own  heart,  giving 
wings  of  light  to  my  dumb  thought  that 
lies  in  darkness,  unable  to  rise,  and  with 
the  swiftness  of  the  morning  fly  out 
through  the  heavens. 

He  sings  of  the  mind's  darkness  and  of 
the  slavery  of  man  in  the  land  of  kings. 
His  words  ring  with  the  sadness  of  a 
terrible  truth. 

"Here  with  a  hope  hardly  to  wear, 

Naked  nations  and  bare 

Swim,  sink,  strike  out  for  the  dawn." 

His  thought  is  permeated  with  the  thought 
of  the  Bible — I  mean  its  stories  and 
poetical  allegories. 

Scattered  throughout  his  poems  occur 
ideas  that  strike  the  thought-chord  of  the 
dawn — 

"By  the  first  white  light  that  stirs  and 

strives  and  hovers 
As  the  bird  above  the  brood  her  bosom 

covers — " 

Ever  sustaining  the  key-note  of  Songs  Be 
fore  Sunrise  sounding  musically  through 
the  mind.  He  uses  simple  words  and 

70 


UNFOLDING 

every  sentence  contains  a  thought- jewel:   Swinburne 

"The  rhythmic  anguish  of  growth  and 
the  motion  of  mutable  things." 

"Was  it  love  brake  forth  flower-fash 
ion,  a  bird  with  gold  on  his  wings?" 

The  philosophy  of  his  thoughts  belongs 
to  modern  Post-Kantian  Idealism. 

"Space  is  thoughts,  and  the  wonders 

thereof,  and  the  secrets  of  space; 
Is  thought  not  more  than  the  thunders 

and  lightnings?     Shall  thought  give 

place?" 
"Time,  father  of  life,  and  more  great 

than  the  life  it  begat  and  began, 
Earth's  keeper  and  heaven's  and  their 

fate,  lives,  thinks  and  hath  substance 

in  man." 
"By   the   spirit   are   things   overcome; 

they   are  stark  and  the  spirit  hath 

breath." 

The  two  distinctively  modern  poets, 
Swinburne  and  Walt  Whitman,  whether 
consciously  or  unconsciously,  sing  in  the 
thought  of  Ideal  Philosophy.  Both  recog 
nize  the  organic  unity  of  thought  with 
its  object.  Walt  Whitman's  theme  is  love. 
Swinburne's  is  freedom. 

OCTOBER  6.  Surely  this  is  the  beginning, 
at  least,  of  resignation.  The  Soul  is 
visited  by  moments  of  a  full  conscious- 

71 


UNFOLDING 

The  Joy  ness  of  the  delicious  pain  of  sorrow,  of 
of  Trust  purgation  by  the  purifying  waters  of  sor 
row;  the  uplifted,  the  uprisen  joy  of 
arms  emptied  by  grief  of  that  which  was 
individual  and  partial,  to  be  filled  by  that 
which  is  eternal;  the  joy  of  trust,  of 
knowing  that  it  is  well,  that  it  is  the  ful 
fillment  of  the  law. 

"0  Peter,  OCTOBER  21.    The  Soul  knows  not  whence 
Go  Ring  it  comes  that  she  is  so  happy  today.    She 
Dem  Bells-'  could  shout  in  the  words  of  the  old  negro 
hymn: 

"O  Peter,  go  ring  dem  bells. 
I've  heard  from  heaven  today!" 

The  Diver  OCTOBER  22.  There  is  an  ever-increasing 
of  the  Soul  desire,  nay,  a  hunger  and  thirst  of  the 
Soul,  to  teach,  to  comfort  the  poor  and 
ignorant,  to  give  them  light  on  their  dark 
way;  to  show  them  that  life — fulness  of 
life — lies  within  and  not  without  in  the 
hands  of  some  arbitrary  Dens  ex  machind 
who  may  bless  or  curse  them  as  he 
pleases.  That  joy  and  power  and  divinity 
lie  within  their  own  souls  and  there  only 
may  God  be  found;  and  if  God,  then  all 
the  power,  all  the  riches,  all  the  sweet 
ness  in  the  world.  The  diver  of  the  Soul 
shall  plunge  into  the  deepest  waters  of 
the  spirit  to  seek  for  the  pearl  of  great 
price.  He  will  then  cease  not  until  he 
share  his  treasure  with  his  fellows. 

72 


UNFOLDING 

OCTOBER  23.     The  eastern  sky  this  even-  Clouds 
ing  is  a  living  picture  of  the  moods  of  and  Moods 
the  mind.     Great  white  clouds  are  com 
ing  up  from  the  horizon  with  long  pro 
jections  stretching  to  the  zenith — symbols 
of  noble  aspiration — followed  by  masses 
of  dark,  storm  clouds — the  frowns  and 
despondency  of  the  Soul. 

OCTOBER  29.  Is  it  not  more  unreasonable  Eternal 
to  say  that  man  was  produced  from  non-  Thought 
living  matter,  than  to  say  that  force, 
energy,  is  the  manifestation  of  Eternal 
Thought,  infinite  Spirit?  It  may  be  urged 
that  non-living  matter — the  inorganic — 
is  a  fact  of  experience  which  no  one  can 
doubt;  whereas  Eternal  Thought  is  merely 
assumed  to  exist.  But  we  see  order  and 
intelligence  operating  all  the  processes  of 
the  universe;  hence  reflection  points  as 
definitely  and  positively  to  the  existence 
of  Eternal  Thought,  as  do  our  senses  con 
strain  us  to  believe  in  the  existence  of 
the  inorganic.  To  speak  more  accurately, 
there  is  no  non-living  matter,  for  the  in 
organic  itself  is  alive,  itself  manifests  the 
presence  of  order  and  intelligence,  and 
the  clearness  of  the  dividing  line  grows 
less  and  less,  as  the  mind  progresses  on 
its  onward  march  of  knowledge. 

OCTOBER   30.     Poetry  hath  wings  to   fly 
whithersoever    she    pleases.      Poetry    is 

73 


UNFOLDING 

The  Sciences  free.      The    particular    sciences    are    the 

the  Slaves  slaves  of  thought.    They  fetch  and  carry 

of  Thought  for  tne  mind.     Poetry  is  thought  at  its 

mastery — the    Queen,    the    Empress — she 

sits  upon  the  throne  of  the  intellect  and 

the  heart. 

Tennyson's  OCTOBER   31.     O   Beautiful   Soul,   sent  to 
Death  earth  to  sing  of  heavenly  harmonies! 

O    beautiful    passing    away — Light    and 

Nature  to  the  end! 

O  Sweetness,  O  Peace,  O  Joy,  passing  into 

Eternity! 

O  tender  consideration  toward  all! 

O  his  thanks  to  his  nurses! 

O  beautiful  form  in  death! 

O   marks   of  time  and  contention  softly 

passing  away! 

O    the   noble    face,   still    and    fresh    and 

calm! 

O  the  moon,  a  desolate  world,  shedding 

light  upon  all! 

O  like  the  heart  of  the  Renunciant  whence 

flows  purest  blessedness! 

O  the  darkness  and  the  silence  and  no 

light  save  the  moonlight! 

O  the  gentle  passing  away! 

O  the  season  of  the  katydid's  last  song! 

O  the   season   of  the   death-song  of  the 

cricket! 

O  the  season  of  the  goodbye-song  of  the 

lonely  grasshopper! 

74 


UNFOLDING 

O  the  dying  colors  of  Autumn  on  field 

and  mountain! 

O  to  know  that  Tennyson  is  dead! 

O  the  resurrection  song  of  the  redbird! 

O   the   resurrection   song  of  the   human 

Soul! 

NOVEMBER  11.     These  pale,  golden  days,  Indian 

the  last  of  autumn,  the  Indian  Summer  of  Summer 

the  year!   See  the  soft,  white  clouds  lying 

still    in    the    blue    above,    like    ships    at 

anchor,   or  moving  onward,  slowly   and 

majestic,  like  ships  far  out  at  sea. 

O  that  the  restless  heart  might  be  still 

and  at  peace  as  Nature   is   at  peace — a 

ship   at   anchor,   a   cloud  poised   and   at 

rest  on  the  bosom  of  heaven! 

NOVEMBER  26.    The  sun  poured  down  his  The  Lone 
gold  upon  the  world,  and  the  little  boy  Farmhouse 
came  in  the  carriage  with  the  old  horse, 
to   drive  her  out  to  the   fields   and  the 
valleys,  and  the  lone  farmhouse. 
The    good    mother    had    spread    a    full 
Thanksgiving  table  in  the  decent  kitchen 
\vith    floor    scrubbed    white    and    open 
hearth  where  crackled  the  fire-logs.   The 
low,  small-paned  windows  gay  with  pot 
ted   plants   and   the   mountains   standing 
outside — like     Eternity     looking     down 
upon  the  little  passing  hour. 
The  lone  farmhouse  and  the  old  cherry 
tree   and   afterward  the   friends'  "good- 

75 


UNFOLDING 

bye."  The  drive  home  with  the  simple 
child  seated  beside,  muffled  in  old  coat, 
and  hat  only  half  concealing  the  little 
white  face  with  its  sweet  and  thoughtful 
look  upon  it. 

0  the  memory  of  love,  and  all  the  hun 
ger  of  the  heart,  and  the  sky,  and  the 
whiteness,  and  the  space,   and  the  two 
uplifted   visions   of   the   mountains,    far 
away,  melting  into  blue  ether,  like  the 
Spirit    of    Poetry    hovering    on    the    one 
side,   and   the    Spirit   of   Peace,   on   the 
other  side,  of  the  lone  farmhouse  plain 
and  quiet  upon  its  hill! 

The  Why  NOVEMBER  27.  The  Poet  yields  up  her 
self  to  the  great  contemplation — the 
holding  in  her  thought  the  vast  concep 
tion  of  the  universe.  She  sees  worlds 
upon  worlds  wheeling  onward  upon  their 
Eternal  courses  through  infinite  space. 
With  the  Psalmist  she  exclaims:  *^\7hen 

1  consider    thy    heavens     .     .     .     what 
is  man  that  thou  beholdest  him,  or  the 
son  of  man  that  thou  shouldst  consider 
him?"    She  beholds  the  constitution  and 
nature  of  suns  and  worlds  as  vague  con 
ceptions,  some  peopled  with  many  kinds 
of  beings,  animals,  plants.     She  beholds 
the  human  race,  she  sees  her  own  destiny 
in  the  light  of  eternity.     She  hears  the 
unfathomable  yearning  of  the  Why. 

76 


UNFOLDING 

NOVEMBER  28.  Modern  progress  is  not  in-  Modern 
compatible  with  sentiment  nor  sentiment  Progress  and 
with  progress;  on  the  contrary,  the  Sentiment 
noblest  sentiment  is  now  more  possible 
than  ever  before,  because  there  are  wider 
fields  of  activity  on  altruistic  lines. 
Sentiment  does  not  consist  of  crude 
schoolgirl  musings.  Real  sentiment  is 
based  on  living  facts;  its  source  lies  in 
a  wholesome,  natural  impulse  of  the 
human  heart.  It  is  fine  feeling  expressed 
in  ideas  and  ready  to  pass  over  into  moral 
activity — if  there  be  need.  It  is  the 
opposite  of  sentimentality,  which  never 
is  ready  to  pass  over  into  moral  activity. 
Real  sentiment  is  ever  accompanied  by  a 
willingness  to  make  a  sacrifice  in  behalf 
of  its  object.  With  sentimentality,  on 
the  contrary,  there  is  present  a  shrinking 
from  obligation;  it  merely  poses  as  senti 
ment,  making  much  of  unrealities. 
With  modern  progress  new  and  wider 
fields  for  thought  and  feeling  are  opening 
for  humanity.  True  poetic  sentiment — 
all  real  sentiment  has  poetry  in  it — must 
be  plastic  and  open  to  further  develop 
ment.  As  knowledge  increases,  modern 
progress  calls  for  a  new  poetry  of  life — 
a  new,  a  purer,  a  larger  sentiment;  a 
poetry  which  will  include  not  man  only, 
as  the  sole  monarch  of  the  world,  but 
woman  also  as  his  co-equal  in  all  future 

77 


UNFOLDING 

Modern  development;  and  not  only  the  man  and 
Progress  and  the  woman  blessed  by  the  smiles  of  for- 
Sentiment  tune,  but  the  poor  and  ignorant  must  be 
received  now  on  equal  terms. 
"By  God!  I  will  accept  nothing  which 
all  can  not  have  their  counterpart  of  on 
the  same  terms,"  says  Walt  Whitman. 
The  doctrine  of  evolution  in  science,  and 
the  principle  of  development  in  philoso 
phy,  which  embrace  the  grandest  ideas 
of  modern  thought,  teach  us  to  include 
within  the  sphere  of  our  meditative  love 
even  our  dumb  servants,  the  animals; 
nay,  plant  life  itself,  with  its  marvelous 
beauty;  aye,  and  the  very  stocks  and 
stones  of  earth  call  for  love  and  recog 
nition;  that  man  may  no  longer  suppose 
he  inhabits  a  world  of  which  he  is  sole 
master,  wherein  to  disport  himself  in 
good  humor  or  cruelt3r,  as  the  passing 
mood  may  so  please  him  to  do;  but  that 
he  shall  become  a  reverent  dweller  in  the 
divine  Temple  of  Life,  wherein  all  is 
sacred  and  shall  be  so  regarded. 
As  science  and  philosophy  lead  the  van 
of  progress,  sentiment  and  poetry  shall 
progressively  remould  their  forms,  and 
take  their  objects  of  contemplation  and 
of  rhapsody  from  out  the  great  store 
houses  of  assured  and  rational  truth. 
Swinburne  and  Whitman,  one  the  singer 
of  human  freedom,  the  other,  the  singer 

78 


UNFOLDING 

of  human  comrade-love,  would  have  been 
impossible  in  the  time  of  Homer,  who, 
according  to  the  childish  mode  of  con 
ception  in  his  day  and  generation,  re 
garded  the  mind  as  only  a  fainter  copy, 
a  reflection  of  the  body,  and  supposed 
that  a  man's  real  self  was  destroyed  with 
the  body,  Homer  thus  makes  the  souls  of 
his  heroes  descend  into  the  underworld 
while  they  themselves  are  a  prey  for  dogs 
and  birds. 

The  spirit  of  Romance,  I  conceit,  need 
not  expire  or  lose  its  vitality  under  the 
stress  of  modern  progress,  if  only  it  be 
plastic,  if  only  it  be  tempered  to  the  on 
ward  march.  The  old  spirit  of  Romance 
which  had  its  expression  at  any  cost,  is 
now  called  on  to  recast  its  forms,  to 
recognize  the  necessity  of  the  moral  dis 
cipline  of  bringing  the  individual  experi 
ence  into  its  right  relation  as  an  element 
in  the  organic  unity  of  society  and  the 
world  of  thought.  And  so  shall  the  spirit 
of  Sentiment  become  purified  and  ex 
alted. 

DECEMBER  13.  The  sunrise  is  the  festival  Sunrise 
of  the  Sky  prepared  by  Nature  for  the 
god's  triumphal  entrance  on  the  day. 
There  is  an  overhanging  arch  from  east 
to  west.  It  is  of  pale  blue.  In  the  east 
there  gathers  a  host  of  glittering  armorial 

79 


UNFOLDING 

Sunrise  knights.  A  few  of  the  scattered  cohorts 
of  the  day  are  swiftly  coming  on  the 
wings  of  the  winds.  Others  approach 
with  slow  and  measured  pace.  A  red- 
bird  sings  the  morning  hymn.  The  sol 
emn  mountain,  "clothed  in  purple  and 
fine  linen,"  stands  with  uncovered  head 
reverentially.  The  Poet,  too,  stands  and 
adores,  for  now  the  god  appears,  "as  a 
giant  to  run  his  course/*  his  head 
crowned  with  the  glory  of  the  world. 


80 


In  Harmony 

My  uprisen  thought  of 

good  health  and  harmony  hovers  over 

the  physical  part,  leading  the 

stricken  body  as  the  Shekinah 

irradiated  the  Ark  of  the 

Covenant  before  the 

Israelites. 


IN     HARMONY 

JANUARY   2,   1893.     There  is,   of  late,   a  The  World 
strong  tendency  toward  rest  from  all  out-  of  the 
ward  activity  and  a  call  to  turn  inward;   stl11 
a  need  to  cease  from  study  and  to  listen 
quietly  to  the  voice  within  the  Soul;  need 
for  a  great  deal  of  sleep,  for  a  great  many 
hours  in  which  to  lie  still,  realizing  con 
tact  with  silent  Nature.     O  the  time  of 
weakness,  of  convalescence  1 
O    the    world    of    privation    and    to    be 
thrown  in  upon  one's  self;  of  looking  to 
the  inward  power  alone  to  sustain  and 
cheer!    The  being  alone  in  the  World  of 
the   Still   Things — of  distant   sounds,   of 
birds'  notes,  of  winds  soughing  in  pine 
trees,  of  mute  sunshine,  and  silent  shad 
ows,  the  Soul  the  only  human  alive. 
The  radiant  figure  of  Hope,  so  long  the 
companion   of  the   Soul   upon  the   dark 
road  over  which  she  has  come,  has  de 
parted.     The   Soul   is   alone.     It  is   the 
season  of  waiting,  of  trusting,  of  faith. 

83 


IN  HARMONY 

The  Common  JANUARY  3.  There  is  need,  now  and  then, 
Nature  for  a  time  of  rest  in  which  to  drink 
deeply  of  the  common  Nature.  All  exist 
ence  is  simply  the  being  of  things.  Take 
away  any  particular  thing  by  itself, 
examine  it,  analyze  it,  reduce  it  to  its 
elements,  reduce  them  again  until  you 
can  go  no  farther.  You  will  find  there  is 
only  a  simple  being  and  a  combination 
for  a  certain  purpose  of  uses;  you  will 
see  that  the  only  persistent,  the  only  en 
during  is  the  common  Nature.  When  I 
rest  I  drink  deeply  of  the  common  Nature. 
I  fall  into  the  poetic  mood.  I  listen  to 
distant  sounds.  I  am  touched  by  their 
spiritual  significance.  I  see  how  all 
things  vibrate  with  the  common  Nature. 
The  tiny  cowbell's  tone  makes  a  note  in 
the  great  Symphony,  as  the  caw  of  the 
distant  crow  and  the  far-off  shouts  of  the 
boys. 

The  Pity  of  It  JANUARY  4.  It  seems  a  pity,  oh,  the  pity 
of  it!  that  no  sooner  do  people  arrive  at 
middle  age — the  time  when  they  have 
only  just  learned  how  to  live,  when  they 
have  acquired  some  knowledge,  some 
wisdom,  when  heart  and  mind  are  ripe, 
— than  they  lie  down  and  die;  many  of 
them  instead  of  entering  as  they  might 
upon  the  richest  period  of  life;  the  sea 
son  when  the  soil  of  mind  and  heart  is 

84 


IN  HARMONY 

ready  to  produce  crops  of  usefulness  and 
happiness  impossible  before.  Kant  wrote 
his  three  great  critiques  after  fifty  years 
of  age.  See  Mr.  Gladstone,  premier  of 
England  at  eighty-four,  and  Tennyson 
writing  poems  up  to  the  time  of  his 
death  at  over  eighty.  It  would  appear 
that  these  men  were  naturally  so  filled 
with  the  divine  life,  although  they,  too, 
held  the  divine  spark  instinctively,  that 
the  inherited  and  associated  instinct  to 
begin  to  fail  at  middle  age,  was  post 
poned  many  years  beyond  the  ordinary 
term. 

JANUARY  5.     Is  it  not  possible  for  self-  Acquired 
conscious     power    to     replace    the     in-  Youthfulness 
stinctive?     Heart  and  lungs  expand,  di 
gestion  and  assimilation  take  place  moved 
on  by  an  automatic  activity  of  the  nervous 
centers.     Now  let  these   vital   functions 
become  the  servants  of  the  self-conscious 
cerebral  cortex. 

From  birth  to  "midway  upon  the  journey 
of  our  life"  the  fulness  of  vigor  is  in 
stinctive.  Why  may  not  power  be  ac 
quired  to  live  youthfully  after  fifty  years, 
by  self-conscious  living — self-conscious 
thought  used  for  the  purpose  of  acquir 
ing  continued  youthfulness  of  frame, 
continued  good  health  and  activity  far 
beyond  the  period  now  set  and  generally 

85 


IN  HARMONY 

recognized  as  the  inevitable  term  of 
active  life. 

It  is  already  stated  as  a  fact  in  science 
that  living  organisms  are  formed  slowly 
by  conscious  effort.  Each  creature  and 
thing  forms  itself  according  to  its  need 
and  environment  by  virtue  of  its  own 
inherent  power,  which  is,  in  fact,  a  part 
of  the  power  and  purposes  of  the  eternal 
universe. 

In  his  essay  on  Fate,  Emerson  has  this 
to  say:  "The  Soul  contains  the  event 
that  shall  befall  it;  for  the  event  is  only 
the  actualization  of  its  thoughts,  and 
what  we  pray  to  ourselves  is  always 
granted.  The  event  is  the  print  of  your 
form.  .  .  History  is  the  action  and  re 
action  of  these  two — nature  and  thought. 
.  .  .  Every  solid  in  the  universe  is  ready 
to  become  fluid  on  the  approach  of  mind, 
and  the  power  to  flux  it  is  the  measure 
of  the  mind." 

The  Day  of  JANUARY  6.    In  youth  the  Soul  was  dumb. 

Knowledge  She  was  without  speech  and  without 
knowledge.  She  was  oppressed  and 
crushed  into  silence  by  the  helplessness 
of  ignorance.  True,  an  irresistible  intui 
tion  led  her  to  oppose  herself  inwardly 
to  the  teachings  of  her  elders;  yet  she 
knew  nothing.  She  had  no  arguments 
with  which  to  assert  and  hold  a  new  posi- 

86 


IN  HARMONY 

tion.    She  knew  nothing,  yet  she  believed  The  Day  of 
that  human  slavery  was  wrong;  that  re-  Knowledge 
spect  for  class  distinctions  in  society  and 
the  privileged  few  was  a  crime  against 
humanity    and   that   theological    dogmas 
were  mere  superstitions. 
The  young  Soul  was  as  one  imprisoned 
in  a  dungeon  where  she  dreamed  of  free 
dom — freedom    from   the    old    forms    of 
thought    and    custom.      The    principles 
taught  her  under  those  old  forms  were 
those  of  truthfulness,  justice  and  clean 
ness.     For  this  she  shall  always  rejoice 
and  feel  thankful. 

Now  is  arriving  the  day  of  knowledge,  of 
some  speech  and  freedom  when  the  Soul 
may  help  spread  the  Gospel  of  Truth. 
The  early,  helpless,  dumb  life,  contrasted 
with  ripened  maturity,  is  as  the  time 
when  the  human  race  was  as  yet 
struggling  in  its  dumb,  animal  existence, 
compared  with  the  present  period  of  a 
great  art  and  literature.  A  little  space 
yet  of  patience  and  may  not  the  Soul  step 
forth,  full-fledged  and  gloriously  en 
dowed  with  a  new  life,  a  higher  and  a 
grander  youth — the  self-conscious  youth? 

JANUARY  7.  When  vice-like  pain  clinches 
the  body  and  there  is  no  interval  of  rest, 
— when  eyes  are  painful  and  refuse  to 
serve;  when  all  heart  seems  to  have  died 

87 


IN  HARMONY 

The  out   of   everything — then   life    is   simply 
Red-Bird's  an  endurance;  as  it  is  with  the  wretched 
Song  criminal  in  his  cell,  when  the  hopeless 
ness  of  captivity  overcomes  him.    Yet  the 
air  is   mild  that   comes  in  through  the 
open   window   and  the  heart   hears   the 
red-bird's  song  outside. 

A  Vision  of  JANUARY  8.  The  thought  of  a  grand  Res- 
the  Sun  ignation  enters  the  Soul.  There  are 
moments  when  she  kisses  the  rod  that 
smites.  In  her  darkest  hour,  when  she 
was  prostrate  in  the  dungeon,  alone  and 
in  pain,  rejected  and  despised,  like 
Benvenuto  Cellini  in  his  dungeon  she 
prayed  for  a  vision  of  the  sun.  Like  him, 
the  Soul,  too,  was  shown  that  vision,  and 
shall  faith  fail  now? — the  vision  of  the 
sunrise  of  the  day  of  self-conscious, 
moral  control  over  passion,  the  day  of 
virtue,  the  day  of  knowing,  the  day  of 
a  grand  faith,  the  day  of  a  divine  joy! 

My  Method  JANUARY  9.  The  method  I  use  in  study- 
of  Study  ing  any  subject  or  branch  of  knowledge 
— which  was  naturally  evolved  and  not 
consciously  adopted — is  as  follows: — 
First  there  is  the  interest  to  supply  the 
motor  power.  I  begin  to  gather  facts 
as  I  may  have  opportunity.  As  one  puts 
down  stakes  when  laying  off  a  new  piece 
of  ground,  so  do  I  place  in  my  mind  my 
first  gathered  facts  relating  to  the  sub- 

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IN  HARMONY 

ject  in  hand.  They  may  be  scattered,  My  Method 
irregular  and  even  seemingly  opposed  to  of  Study 
each  other,  yet  they  serve  as  a  beginning, 
and  I  allow  none  to  slip  past  me.  I  hold 
the  facts  tentatively,  not  attempting  any 
judgment  as  yet.  I  continue  reading  on 
the  subject,  and  do  not  become  impatient 
if,  at  first,  I  fail  fully  to  comprehend  all 
that  I  read,  being  aware  that  a  good  deal 
of  the  subject  will  escape  me  because  of 
my  unfamiliarity  with  it.  I  am  not  yet 
prepared  to  grasp  the  full  meaning  of  all, 
so  take  hold  of  only  so  much  as  I  can 
hold  to.  Then  I  begin  filling  in  between 
the  stakes  first  laid  down,  frequently  re 
arranging,  as  I  find  myself  able  to  place 
any  facts  in  better  order  and  properer 
relations  to  each  other.  This  con 
tinues  until  something  like  a  general 
concept  is  formed.  I  am  then  able  to 
move  forward  more  rapidly  and  under- 
standingly;  learning  all  the  time  to  get 
and  keep  my  bearings  more  and  more 
clearly.  Finally,  when  I  have  attained  a 
tolerably  good  grasp  and  comprehensive 
view  of  the  subject,  I  feel  prepared  to 
scrutinize  every  statement  made,  allow 
ing  nothing  to  pass  by  without  a  clear 
understanding  of  it,  often  going  back 
over  the  ground,  examining  and  compar 
ing  in  the  light  of  enlarged  acquisitions. 
I  often  transpose  and  reconstruct  a 

89 


IN  HARMONY 

sentence  for  the  purpose  of  trying  to  find 
the  meaning  of  it  more  perfectly. 
I  hold  tentatively  the  opinion  and  judg 
ments  of  any  one  author,  passing  on  to 
another  who  may  offer  an  opposing  opin 
ion,  or  present  a  different  point  of  view. 
After  having  thus  examined  many  differ 
ent  views  on  the  same  subject  I  then  pro 
ceed  to  conciliate  one  with  the  other, 
perhaps  casting  out  certain  opinions  alto 
gether  and  when  such  introduction  may 
be  allowable  introducing  in  their  stead 
views  of  my  own  to  make  out  a  satis 
factory  solution  of  any  problem,  or  to 
complete  a  systematic  view  of  the  sub 
ject;  often,  as  in  philosophy,  when  it  is 
difficult  to  hold  the  attention  closely,  I 
shut  my  eyes  and  repeat  sentence  after 
sentence,  until  I  receive  the  meaning 
clearly  in  my  mind. 

To  the  JANUARY  12.  O  Plum  Tree!  Thou  didst 
Plum  Tree  kear  ^g  fajrest  fruit  and  sweet  to  the 
taste  in  the  summer  season.  Thou  dost 
now  stand,  patient  and  trustful,  through 
the  darkness  and  the  cold  of  the  winter 
season. 

O  teach  me  thy  patience  and  thy  trust! 
O  the  patience  and  the  silent  trust  of  all 
vegetation! 

JANUARY  13.     All  sounds  which  are  dis 
tant  enough  to  become  poetical  are  dear 

90 


IN  HARMONY 

to  the  poet.  He  loves  the  sound  of  the  Sounds 
woodman's  axe;  the  humming  bee  on  the  to  the  Poet 
wing;  the  shouts  of  school  children;  the 
song  of  the  wagoner  as  he  passes  by, 
drawn  by  his  patient  beasts;  the  chat 
tering  of  the  sparrows;  the  reedy,  flute- 
tones  of  little  cedar  birds;  the  buzz  of 
passing  insect;  even  the  prosaic  crow  of 
the  cock-fowl;  the  lowered  speech-tunes 
of  the  farmer  to  his  horses  as  they  turn 
the  corner  on  the  street,  "Woa-haw;"  the 
light-hearted  whistle  of  the  young  man  as 
he  passes  by. 

FEBRUARY  13.    I  am  very  weary  and  must  The  Solemn 
rest  again  from  my  studies.     I  will  lie  Procession  of 
down  and  watch  the  solemn  procession  the  Clouds 
of   the    clouds,    to    receive    refreshment 
from  contemplation  of  Nature,  to  be  filled 
again  with  that  divine  wine  and  essence 
of  life  which  I  have  used  up,  until  now 
I  am  empty  and  need  to  go  to  the  wells 
to  draw  and  drink  my  fill. 

FEBRUARY  19.     One  happy  moment  came  One  Happy 
to  the  Soul  this  morning.    The  birds  were  Moment 
singing  as  though  it  were  spring.    A  red- 
bird  sat  in  the  boughs  of  a  near  locust 
tree,  whistling  some  sweet,  sad,  happy 
note.    The  Soul  rejoiced  in  his  tune  and 
in    the   mild,   tissuey   sunlight,    and   the 
warm  air,  and  the  rushing  voice  of  the 
snow-swollen  stream. 

91 


IN  HARMONY 

As  the  Thread  MARCH  3.  I  see  it  stated  by  the  high  caste 
Through  a  Brahmin,  Swami  Vivekananda,  that,  "The 
String  Lord  has  declared  to  the  Hindu,  in  his 
of  Pearls  incarnation  of  Krishna,  'I  am  in  every 
religion  as  the  thread  through  a  string  of 
pearls.'  "  I  was  surprised  because  of  the 
similarity  of  my  own  thought  already  ex 
pressed  in  this  journal  wiiere  I  said,  "In 
the  impelling  struggle  for  truth  and  right 
in  the  world  divine  love  is  concealed  like 
a  thread  upon  which  are  strung,  like 
beads,  the  thoughts  of  men.  Few  are 
crystal-pure  enough  to  irradiate  the  light 
of  the  divine  thread  within.  If  they  be, 
then  that  is  truth,  but  most  are  dull  and 
black  and  they  be  the  false  beliefs  of 
men." 

The  Mystic  MARCH    5.      Spring — that    dreamy,    sug- 

Power  gestive  season  has  come.    I  hear  her  low, 

of  Spring  murmuring  voice,  of  a  "thousand  blended 

notes,"  coming  out  of  the  depths  of  earth 

and  sky.     I  feel  her  mystic  power. 

Only  One  of  MARCH  9.  The  question  is  now  ferment- 
the  Gleaners  ing  and  struggling  for  a  final  answer — 
What  shall  be  the  life  work  of  the  Soul, 
in  the  great  human  hive?  She  has  never 
had  any  work;  work  that  earns  money, 
or  is  regular  and  compulsory.  Aspiration 
has  assumed  many  forms,  poetry  and 
music  are  the  chief.  It  is  clear  now  that 
she  possesses  not  one  talent.  She  is  only 

92 


IN  HARMONY 

a  dreamer.  On  that  foundation  or  with 
out  any  foundation  at  all,  except  that 
which  was  given  by  Nature  herself,  she 
shall  perforce  live  and  act.  "The  leopard 
can  not  change  his  spots,  nor  the  Ethi 
opian  his  skin."  Knowledge,  culture — 
these  are  the  outlines  to  follow,  and  to 
jot  dowrn,  as  she  may  be  able  to  catch 
some  fleeting  forms  and  colors  in  her 
dreams,  so  that  some  good  word — Oh, 
may  the  word  be  good! — may  be  left  for 
others  when  the  Soul  has  gone  hence, 
to  be  no  more  seen;  also,  to  do  all  the 
good  she  can  along  the  pathway  as  she 
goes,  even  to  the  least  act  of  justice  and 
mercy.  She  is  not  appointed  by  Nature 
to  plough,  sow  or  reap  in  the  great  har 
vest  fields  of  the  world,  where  the  strong 
laborers  are  at  work,  but  is  appointed,  in 
the  divine  Order,  as  only  one  of  the 
gleaners  who  may  gather  the  grain  that 
has  been  dropped  and  fallen  by  the  way 
side. 

MARCH  21.    A  cloudy  morning — so  is  the  imprisonment 
inner  wrorld  of  the  Soul.     She  has  been 
imprisoned    for    years.      Some    are    im 
prisoned  for  life. 

MARCH   24.     The    clouds    are   abroad — a  Philosophy 
frowning   world   to    face.      Yesterday    I 
finished  the  first  volume  of  Caird's  Crit 
ical   Philosophy   of   Kant.      I    inscribed 

93 


IN  HARMONY 

upon  the  last  leaf  of  the  book  these 
words:  "Philosophy  is  the  Revelation  of 
God  in  the  intellect." 

The  Cry  APRIL  11.  The  fires  of  purgatory  are 
of  Dives  purging  body  and  soul — burning  the 
dross  to  leave  the  pure  gold. 
Yesterday  snow  fell  all  day.  In  anguish 
the  Soul  cried  out,  like  another  Dives  in 
hell,  that  the  cold  snowflakes  might  fall 
upon  her  inward  fires. 

Philosophy  Is  APRIL  12.  The  Soul  yearns  for  that  which 
Homesickness  abides.  She  is  heartsick  of  the  infideli 
ties  of  life.  This  longing  lies  at  the  root 
of  her  love  for  philosophy.  It  is  the  one 
need  of  the  Soul — to  find  the  permanent. 
Novalis  says  that  philosophy  is  home 
sickness. 

In  a  MAY  7.  Last  night  during  the  storm  the 
Thunderstorm  Soul  was  alone  in  the  cottage.  She  shrank 
in  terror  from  the  lightning  and  thunder. 
She  recollected  an  account  she  had  read 
of  the  awful  tidal  wave  that  destroyed 
Lost  Island,  on  the  coast  of  Mississippi, 
and  all  its  inhabitants,  save  one  negress 
and  a  little  child. 

She  remembered,  too,  what  Heine  said, 
how  philosophy  had  made  him  feel  like 
a  god,  and  afterwards  how  he  felt  him 
self  shrivel  to  the  insignificant  dimen 
sions  of  a  helpless  human  being  where 
he  lay  upon  his  "mattress  grave." 

94 


IN  HARMONY 

The  Soul,  too,  believes  that  thought  is 
god-force.  She,  too,  feels  that  there  lives 
within  her  an  invincible  power;  yet,  as 
she  lay  in  her  bed,  unable  to  walk,  or 
even  to  sit  up,  cowering  in  terror  from 
the  cannonading  of  the  skies,  her  hands 
covering  her  eyes,  her  fingers  closing  the 
avenues  to  the  sensitive  organs  of  hear 
ing  that  the  delicacy  of  these  conductors 
to  the  heart  be  not  too  heavily  jarred,  she 
almost  laughed  aloud  as  she  said  to  her 
self:  "Another  god,  as  poor  Heine  thought 
himself,  and  another  shrinkage  to  pitiful 
human  estate.  A  god  indeed!  Skulking 
in  terror  from  the  sound  of  his  own 
thunder!" 

MAY  12.     The  Divine  Doors  are  open —  T^ 
such    beneficent,    joyous    Nature!       The  Divine  Doors 
Soul's  Doors  are  open.    She  longs  to  em 
brace  her  Friend  with  boundless  love  and 
confidence.     Is  Nature  at  times  so  rav- 
ishingly    beautiful,    so    divinely    tender, 
because    she    would    put    aside    all    the 
wretchedness,  all  the  wrong-doing  of  her 
children    and   take   them   to   her   bosom 
without   conditions?     Is  such  a  day   as 
today  one   of  those   rapturous   moments 
when  the  universe  throbs  with  infinite 
love  toward  every  creature? 
In  such  moments,  Nature  would  clasp  her 
erring  children  to  her  bosom,  forgiving 

95 


IN  HARMONY 

all  their  crimes  against  her.  Such  a  day 
is  her  coronation  day,  to  be  celebrated 
by  opening  every  prison,  by  breaking 
every  chain,  by  giving  to  all  her  uni 
versal  love  and  mercy. 
Are  we  in  the  presence  of  God  and  do  not 
know  it? 

Under  MAY  13.  The  cup  of  poetry  is  offered 
the  Sky  me  for  drink.  I  thankfully  partake  of 
this  fine  wine  of  life. 
The  dove's  tender  voice  will  not  allow 
me  to  study  philosophy.  The  Poet  swims 
in  the  seas  of  music,  beauty  and  poetry. 
The  sun  shines  gently  upon  her,  send 
ing  his  rays  through  fluttering,  dancing 
leaves — spring  leaves,  fresh  and  young. 
The  sky  is  of  a  pale,  tender  blue.  The 
birds  are  hopping  about  and  with  their 
songs  the  air  is  in  continuous  musical 
vibration.  In  the  midst  of  this  sparkling 
gaiety  the  dark  pine  trees  stand  like 
solemn  thoughts. 

And  there  is  the  little  rick  of  new-mown 
hay  beneath  the  pines,  and  the  shadows 
playing  on  it. 

All  Nature  is  companionable — the  rays  of 
the  sun  together,  the  little  leaves  together, 
the  birds,  the  playing  shadows,  and  the 
dove  breathing  out  her  love-note  to  her 
mate. 
But  the  Soul  is  alone. 

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IN  HARMONY 

And  now  the  little  clouds  appear,  where 
before  there  was  nothing,  only  the  blue 
sky.  They  come  into  life  like  spirits 
emerging  from  the  Infinite. 
From  out  the  Unknown  will  someone 
come  to  the  Soul? 

MAY  14.     The  Soul  now  passes  into  the  Entering 
self-conscious    life — the    world    of    self-  Upon  the 
knowledge,   of   disciplined   will,    of  vie-  Mastery 
tory.    Into  the  youth  of  the  self-conscious  °f  Llfe 
life,  out  from  the  world  of  instinct,  pas 
sion  and  ignorance — the  world  of  decay, 
defeat  and  death. 

The  Soul  shall  now  stand  alone,  self- 
poised.  She  will  trust  and  wait. 
She  stands  in  the  presence  of  God  and 
beholds  the  revelation  of  Life.  She  uses 
divine  powers  and  knows  she  uses  them. 
She  will  remain  silent  and  abide  her 
time,  knowing  that  all  shall  be  fulfilled 
in  due  order. 

The  days  of  her  apprenticeship  are  over. 
She  enters  upon  the  mastery  of  life. 

MAY  20.  At  times  the  Soul,  for  whom  all 
things  were  made;  for  whom  exist  new 
and  unknown  worlds  only  that  she  may 
conquer  them,  is  god-like,  possessing  all 
things. 

Again,  and  the  Soul  appears  but  as  a  "for 
tuitous  aggregation  of  sensations"  sus 
pended  in  infinite  space  by  unseen  and 

97 


IN  HARMONY 

unknown  forces.  The  threads  may  break 
at  any  moment,  precipitating  the  Soul 
into  the  Abysm  of  Nothingness.  She  is 
the  mere  creature  and  toy  of  the  uni 
verse,  in  which,  in  fact,  she  holds  no  per 
manent  place.  She  is  but  an  apparition, 
a  bubble  of  froth,  seen  for  one  moment 
on  the  bosom  of  the  Deep,  the  next,  gone 
forever;  a  speck  of  vapor  on  the  Sky  of 
Vastness  to  dissipate  as  soon  as  seen. 
Does  this  intense  and  never-silent  yearn 
ing  for  permanence — the  voice  of  Philos 
ophy  in  the  Soul — bear  within  it  no  seed 
of  promise  of  the  knowledge  of  what 
things  really  are?  Philosophy  gives  me 
an  affirmative  answer.  The  Soul  is  cre 
ative.  The  Soul  is  divine.  The  Ideas  of 
Reason  reach,  like  fair  marble  columns, 
up  from  man  to  God! 

Co-operation  MAY  21.  Go-operation  is  the  law  of  life. 
"All  things  work  together  for  good  to 
them  who  love  God."  These  are  they 
who  love  the  law  of  the  universe;  who 
fall  into  line  with  Nature;  who  become 
obedient  to  the  great  Mother's  teachings. 
Thus  sang  the  Rishis  of  the  Veda : 
"Thou  art  our  Father.  Thou  art  our 
Mother.  Thou  art  our  loved  Friend. 
"Thou  art  He  who  bearest  the  burdens  of 
the  universe.  Help  us  to  bear  the  bur 
den  of  this  little  life!" 

98 


IN  HARMONY 

It  is  co-operation  among  the  molecules 
that  magnetizes  the  iron — each  molecule 
moving  onward  in  the  same  direction. 
The  Soul  shall  become  adaptable.  She 
will  co-operate  with  the  universe  in 
which  she  finds  herself. 
Powell,  in  that  noble  book,  "Our  Hered 
ity  from  God,"  declares  that  the  human 
ity  of  the  future — the  ideal  man  and 
woman — will  be  they  who  have  learned 
to  adapt  themselves  to  any  environment, 
by  overcoming  its  antagonisms;  they 
who  in  wisdom  shall  find  that  all  things 
subserve  the  good  and  wise. 
The  Soul  will  then  search  out  the  will  of 
her  great  Mother,  who  has  her  now  as 
clay,  and  is  moulding  and  shaping  her. 
All  things  else  vanish  before  the  neces 
sity  of  this  supreme  work  of  developing 
the  powers  of  the  Soul. 
The  Soul  shall  be  like  unto  an  instru 
ment,  well  strung  and  attuned  for  the 
great  symphony  of  Immortality.  O  to 
give  out  a  pure  tone  when  Thy  hand 
shall  sweep  the  strings! 

MAY  22.    Life  is  a  continuous  Revelation.  Heaven 
John  in  Patmos  held  no  monopoly.     The  Here  and  Now 
Soul,  as  did  he,  bathes  and  swims  in  the 
Eternal  Thought.     She  shall  have   indi 
viduality  in  proportion  as  she  uses  and 
develops    the   power   of   infinite   Nature 

99 


IN  HARMONY 

which  flows  through  her.  There  is  no 
need  to  wait  for  another  life  to  enter 
into  heaven;  she  will  enter  into  heaven 
here  and  now,  by  realizing  the  divine  in 
herself.  Jesus  saw  this  truth  when  he 
said :  "The  Kingdom  of  Heaven  is  within 
you." 

Despair  the  MAY  27.  The  hardest  to  bear  is  not  the 
Tempter  in  hour  of  bitterest  agony,  when  every  pulse 
the  Desert  beats  with  fury;  when  the  entire  con 
sciousness  is  awake  with  extraordinary 
sensitiveness;  when  every  fibre  is  strained 
to  the  utmost;  when  all  the  forces  of  life 
are  in  a  raging  tempest  around  you,  and 
soul  and  body  seem  on  the  eve  of  break 
ing,  as  bones  and  sinews  break  on  the 
wheel  of  torture:  but  it  is  when,  long 
after  the  storm  is  over,  and  the  fair  image 
of  Hope  fades  before  your  straining  eyes, 
and  the  first  enthusiasm  of  friends'  and 
neighbors'  sweet  charity  for  you  has 
faded  away  also,  and  you  lie  alone  with 
only  the  monotonous,  dull,  voiceless  pain 
to  bear.  Then  it  is  that  Despair  comes  to 
tempt  you  in  the  desert. 

Ladye  JUNE  9.  It  is  the  day  of  the  inner  con- 
Spiritual  flict  in  the  moral  life — a  silent  battle,  but 
a  struggle  to  the  death. 
Thy  choice  is  made,  O  Soul!  Thou  shalt 
follow  the  leadings  of  thy  deepest  nature. 
Thy  chosen  path  lies  through  a  lonely 

100 


IN  HARMON.Y/A; 


land — the  development  of  the  highest 
irrespective  of  self-interest  or  sensuous 
pleasure.  The  people  of  thy  class  find 
thee  not  companionable.  They  "pass  thee 
by  on  the  other  side."  The  wounds  they 
give  they  bind  not  up  again  with  oil  and 
the  balm  of  Gilead.  It  may  not  be  other 
wise.  Thou  shalt  not  ask  that  others  give 
to  thee.  Thou  shalt  give  to  others.  In 
the  old  Anglo-Saxon  tongue  "Ladye" 
means  Loaf-giver — one  who  of  her  abun 
dance  gives  away  to  those  who  lack.  See 
to  it  that  thou  be  Ladye  Spiritual,  and  of 
thy  store  give  freely  to  the  poor. 

JUNE  10.    A  moment  in  the  Eternal  Now.  A  Moment 

Life  as  we  know  it  is  but  a  moment  in  in  the 

the    "Eternal    Now."      The    hour    of    the  Eternal  Now 

Soul's  suffering  is  but  a  lesser  moment  in 

that  Moment.     Her  season   of  pain   and 

restraint  is  long  and  tedious  only  in  the 

seeming. 

JUNE  11.     Truth  is  not  cheap.     There  is   Truth  Is 
need  that  the  Soul  learn  the  facts  of  life  Not  Cheap 
in  due  order.    With  the  untutored  eye  all 
is  seen  at  a  glance.    With  the  scholar  it 
is  not  so.     With  him  there  is   perforce 
innumerable    watchings.      Steady,    long 
and    frequent   must    be    the    penetrating 
glance    of    the    scholar — the    watching, 
the  seeing,  the  waiting,  the  thinking,  the 
loving  of  a  lifetime.     Shall  not  the  Soul 

101 


IN  HARMONY 

desire  to  attain  scholarship  in  the  life 
spiritual? 

Metapfiysic  JUNE  12.    Metaphysic  is  the  physiology  of 
intellect,  the  chemistry  of  mind. 

Woman  JUNE  13.  I  was  talking  on  the  subject 
Suffrage  of  woman  suffrage  to  a  man  who  is  op 
posed  to  it.  The  point  he  made  was  that 
to  give  woman  the  ballot  would  be  to  in 
troduce  into  politics  an  "irresponsible 
element." 

An  irresponsible  element!  I  was  shocked 
to  hear  pronounced  such  an  estimate  of 
woman  by  man.  If  this  is  a  fair  repre 
sentative  view  held  by  the  male  sex,  no 
wonder  that  woman  is  politically  classed 
with  infants,  idiots  and  madmen!  In  the 
light  of  such  a  verdict  how  do  the  Sap- 
phos,  the  Hypatias,  the  Joan  of  Arcs,  the 
Queen  Elizabeths,  the  George  Eliots  ap 
pear?  Or  indeed  that  countless  host 
of  intelligent,  educated,  conscientious 
women  who  hold  the  destinies  of  the 
race  in  their  keeping?  Is  such  a  light  a 
true  light?  Is  such  a  verdict  a  just  ver 
dict  from  the  man-world  to  his  sister 
woman-world? 

Viewing  wroman  merely  in  respect  of  her 
relations  to  man  and  as  nothing  outside 
of  those  relations,  is  such  a  verdict  just? 
Woman  as  man's  mother,  wife,  sister, 
friend — shall  she  be  regarded  as  an  irre- 

102 


IN  HARMONY 

sponsible  being?  To  hold  her  as  respon 
sible  in  these  relations,  and  as  irrespon 
sible  (that  is,  without  the  sense  of  moral 
responsibility)  in  other  relations,  would 
be  irrational.  Think  of  any  irrespon 
sible  mother,  an  irresponsible  wife!  Does 
a  man  never  consult  his  mother  or  his 
wife  on  matters  of  serious  import?  Does 
he,  then,  entrust  the  education  and  form 
ing  of  the  moral  character  of  his  sons  to 
an  irresponsible  being?  Does  a  man  hold 
his  wife  irresponsible  in  the  matter  of 
the  sex  relation?  Have  God  and  Nature 
placed  the  stamp  of  irresponsibility  upon 
woman  by  making  her  the  mother  of  the 
race?  What  is  the  testimony  of  history? 
Of  science?  Has  she  not  been  the  leader 
of  armies,  the  political  ruler,  the  poet, 
the  saint,  the  priestess?  And  now  biology 
comes  forward  to  crown  her  with  prior 
ity  in  the  grand  march  of  evolution. 
JUNE  23.  The  question  to  be  settled  is  The  Brute  Law 
to  reconcile  the  brute  law  of  "Might  is  Versus  the 
right,"  with  the  higher  law  of  renuncia-  Higher  Law 
tion;  to  ascertain  how  far  the  first  may 
be  justified  as  a  working  basis  for  con 
duct,  and  at  what  point  we  ought  to  de 
part  from  it  and  pass  over  to  the  higher 
law. 

The  brute  law  rules  in  the  vegetable  and 
animal    worlds,    as    also    in    almost   the 

103 


IN  HARMONY 

whole  of  the  human  world.  Is  it  a  stage 
in  development,  and  a  necessary  stage, 
and  as  such  to  be  tolerated?  Or  should 
the  higher  law  be  taught  at  once  to  all 
under  all  circumstances? 
Is  the  higher  law  workable  among  the 
poor  and  ignorant,  the  money-makers, 
and  wealth-producers?  If  not,  ought  the 
higher  law  to  be  taught  until  these  vari 
ous  classes  shall  become  eliminated  from 
society?  Might  not  the  wealth  needed 
for  civilization  be  produced  by  co 
operative  methods  which  would  not  con 
flict  with  the  higher  law? 

Creative  Love  JUNE  24.     I  remember  hearing  a  certain 
Versus  War  lecture    on    philosophy.       The    lecturer 
and  Plunder  stated  that  the  universe  owes   its   exist 
ence  to  spontaneous  activity  of  creative 
Love. 

If  this  be  so,  shall  we  who  have  arrived 
at  the  self-conscious  life — the  nearest  to 
god-life  we  know  of — shall  we  continue 
to  tear  and  rend  each  other,  as  in  wars 
between  peoples,  and  to  devour  our  con 
scious  fellow-beings  as  the  flesh-eaters 
do?  The  microbe,  the  lowest  in  the  scale 
of  existence,  devours  his  fellow-creatures 
— the  microbe  and  the  tiger  and  the 
hyena,  who  have  not  arrived  at  the  stage 
of  a  likeness  to  the  Divine  at  which  man 
is  arriving  in  the  self-conscious  life. 

104 


IN  HARMONY 

The  few,  the  "Saving  remnant,"  desire  to  Creative  Love 
"do  justly  and  to  love  mercy"  and  to  ex-  Versus  War 
tend  this  law  to  their  fellow-man,  as  also  and  Plunder 
to  their  other  fellow-creatures  the  ani 
mals,  and  the  birds,  and  the  fishes,  and 
all  sentient  creatures;  not  taking  the 
sweetness  out  of  that  life  by  selfish  exac 
tion  or  selfish  indifference,  nor  by  taking 
that  life  itself — the  outcome  of  spontane 
ous  divine  joy — which  life  they  cannot 
give  and  to  which  we  see  that  we  hold 
no  title,  when  we  enter  into  the  self- 
conscious  life — the  life  that  knows  and 
knows  that  it  knows;  the  life  which  re 
flects  upon  its  own  divinity. 
It  is  said  of  Jesus  that  to  all  who  received 
him  he  gave  the  power  to  become  the 
Sons  of  God.  This  means  that  Jesus  saw 
that  they  who  receive  the  truths  which 
he  taught — the  truths  of  the  brotherhood 
of  man  and  the  fatherhood  of  God — do 
become,  in  spirit,  the  Sons  of  God. 
Jesus  saw  that  man  is  divine.  He  de 
clared  that  the  kingdom  of  heaven  is  in 
the  soul  itself.  If,  then,  man  is  divine 
and  possesses  heaven  within  him  why 
not  acknowledge  this  divine  nature  and 
act  upon  it? 

The  highest  thought  must  reach  out  in 
every  direction  by  virtue  of  its  power,  as 
light  radiates  from  the  sun  filling  all 
space.  The  moral  insight  of  philosophy 

105 


IN  HARMONY 

is  the  deepest  secret  of  life;  it  consists 
of  rational,  disciplined  sympathy.  It  is 
the  key  to  the  divine  outreach  of  Jesus' 
thought  and  activity — of  Buddha's,  of 
Socrates. 

The  Life  JUNE  29.    The  life  of  the  Soul  is  like  the 

of  the  Soul  surface  of  the  globe.     There  are  broad 

Like  the  Globe  continents    with    here    and    there    great 

m  Variety  cities  of  the  mind  and  heart     There  are 

serene  lakes,  happy  valleys,  dark  forests 
filled  with  savage  beasts  and  birds  of 
prey,  gloomy  volcanos  burning  and  burst 
ing  with  woe.  There  are  mighty  rivers 
and  laughing  streams,  lofty  mountains, 
austere  and  remote,  touching  heaven. 
The  Soul  passes  now  over  the  great  Sa 
hara  Desert.  There  is  no  friend,  no  com 
panion,  no  familiar;  arid  sands  only. 
On  the  edge  of  the  far  horizon  she  can 
scarcely  discern  a  few  dark  specks.  They 
are  the  palm  trees  which  she  has  been 
forced  to  leave  behind.  Beautiful  and 
erect  they  stand,  but  lost  to  her.  Memory's 
mocking  mirage  alone  is  here  reflecting 
happy  days  of  other  lands. 

The  Crushed  JULY  3.    The  Lonely  Human  Soul  has  the 
Herb's  eye  for  celestial  sight,  the  ear  for  celes- 
Fragrance  tial  music;  else  how  could  she  bear  the 
Hour  of  pain  and  lonely  sorrow?    Often 
when  helpless  misery  threatens  to  over 
whelm  her,  all  the  pain,  the  loneliness 

106 


IN  HARMONY 

and  the  sorrow  are  gently  withdrawn, 
and  in  their  place  appear  the  smiling 
joys  of  heaven,  in  tint  and  form  of  cloud, 
in  song  of  bird,  in  the  sweet  silences  of 
trees.  As  the  crushed  herb  gives  up  its 
inmost  fragrance,  so  the  heart  when  most 
deeply  bruised  awakens  to  the  finest 
thought. 

In  her  most  unhappy  moments  the  Soul 
then  sees  with  clearest  vision  the  incom 
parable  beauty  of  Nature,  that  extreme, 
tender  beauty  and  deep  peace  which 
adorns  each  bud  and  flower,  leaf  and 
stalk,  branch  and  trunk,  bird  and  cloud, 
form  and  color,  scent  and  tone. 
"Tis  whispered  balm, 

Tis  sunshine  spoken." 
As  though  the  very  anguish  of  the  spirit 
moved  to  sweet  charity  the  bosom  of  the 
great  Mother. 

JULY  5.  There  is  a  bird  with  a  poem  in 
his  heart  that  comes  at  rare  intervals  to 
visit  me.  He  has  never  permitted  me  to 
see  him,  only  to  listen  to  his  violincello 
tones  which  breathe  out  enthusiasm,  pas 
sion  and  despair.  It  is  the  spirit  of 
Mignon. 

JULY  6.  I  am  in  the  midst  of  a  throng 
of  lovely  beings — flowers  plucked  and 
brought  to  my  bedside,  honeysuckles, 
sweet  peas,  larkspur,  marigolds,  black- 

107 


The  Bird 
with  a 
Poet's  Heart 


IN  HARMONY 

The  Flowers'  eyed  Susans,  field-daisies.  The  scent  of 
Death-Song  the  flower  betrays  the  nature  of  the  Soul, 
as  Swedenborg  declared  the  spirit  of  man 
exhales  its  sweet  or  foul  odor  as  thought 
is  pure  or  indecent.  When  the  living 
smell  departs,  the  soul  of  the  flower  has 
fled  to  the  paradise  of  its  mortality. 

The  Inner  JULY  7.  The  way  the  Soul  has  ever  come 
Voice  to  say  anything  that  may  be  worth  read 
ing  is  this:  She  lies  still  and  drifts 
naturally  into  the  contemplative  mood, 
when  suddenly  and  without  effort  the 
inner  Voice  begins  to  speak. 

The  JULY  8.  I  am  arriving  at  that  point 
Empyrean  when  material  nature  is  not  sufficient. 
of  Ideas  I  move  in  the  world  of  thought  far  more 
than  in  the  world  of  observation.  When 
ideas  cease  to  flow,  then  life  seems  dull 
and  worthless.  There  is  need  to  spread 
the  wings  of  the  Soul  for  yet  a  higher 
mount  into  the  Empyrean  of  Ideas. 
Visible  and  audible  nature  becomes  a 
mere  perch  from  which  to  start  on  the 
winged  flight  upward  and  out  and  be 
yond.  I  wish  my  thought  to  feed  others 
as  great  writers'  thoughts  feed  me. 

JULY  9.  When  the  Soul  awakens  in  the 
morning,  life  appears  unreal  and  dream 
like.  It  is  a  daily  rite  that  necessity  im 
poses  upon  her  of  re-identifying  herself 
for  the  new  day;  a  recalling  of  what  she 

108 


IN  HARMONY 

was  yesterday,  a  restating  of  personal 
relations  to  people  and  things.  Only  as 
the  day  advances  does  the  Soul  stand  on 
firmer  ground,  where  experience  and 
things  become  real.  Especially  does  a 
state  of  suffering  and  unhappiness  ap 
pear  strange  and  dreamlike.  When  the 
Soul  is  happy  and  at  peace,  then  life  be 
comes  a  reality.  Most  of  the  life  of  the 
Soul,  then,  has  appeared  as  a  dream  from 
which  she  has  awakened  occasionally  to 
the  happy  reality.  Dreams  during  sleep 
often  appear  more  real  than  her  waking 
life. 

JULY  10.  I  have  seen  it  stated  that 
Madame  de  Stael  said  of  herself  that 
none  of  her  faculties  had  ever  been  fully 
developed  save  only  the  faculty  of  suf 
fering. 

JULY  11.  Do  you  know  what  it  is  to 
realize  the  poetry  of  life — to  know  how 
the  vision  often  lifts  the  present  burden 
of  pain?  You  see  yourself  as  you  may 
see  the  image  of  a  person  in  a  vision, 
in  a  magic  mirror,  a  character  in  a  book, 
a  figure  in  a  great  painting.  You  see 
that  which  is  to  come — the  future — as 
you  see  that  which  has  been — the  past. 
Poetry  lifts  you  up  out  of  the  present 
prosaic  ennui.  Your  step  quickens. 
Your  eye  brightens.  Your  spirit  is 

109 


When  Life 

Appears 

Unreal 


Madame 
de  Stael 


TJie  Poetry 
of  Life 


IN  HARMONY 

buoyed  up.  What  is  it?  Wherefore? 
You  see  the  ships,  far  out  on  the  horizon, 
coming  full  sail,  with  joy,  for  you! 
You  are  no  longer  bounded  by  the  com 
monplace  facts  about  you.  You  have 
leapt  over  them.  You  have  entered  the 
world  of  the  illimitable.  The  actual  is 
limited,  says  Victor  Hugo,  the  possible  is 
immense.  Poetry  carries  you  up  into  the 
world  of  the  possible. 

Poetry  JULY  12.  Poetry  makes  rich.  The  poet 
Makes  Eich  owns  the  wealth  of  all  the  world.  He 
is  life's  millionaire.  The  poet  sees  the 
young  man,  lately  wedded,  going  to  his 
day's  work  in  the  journeyman's  dress, 
his  implements  across  his  shoulders, 
singing,  as  he  walks  with  swinging  step. 
All  the  sweet  happiness  lying  hidden  in 
his  heart  belongs  to  the  poet  also,  and 
the  poet  is  happy  with  his  happiness, 
and  with  him  sings  the  song  of  joy. 

The  Cost  JULY  14.     The  world  is  of  divine  sub- 

of  the  stance.      The    agony    and    the    pain    are 

Eight  Road  proof    that    it    is    tremendously    worth 

while   to   be   in   harmony   with   Eternal 

Nature.     Go  against  Nature  and  anguish 

and  tears  proclaim  from  the  house-tops 

that  the  right  road  is  lost  and  shall  be 

found  only  at  every  cost.     Groans  and 

tears  purify  the  world,  turning  the  Soul 

back  into  the  right  road.     Quoth  Saint 

110 


IN  HARMONY 

Anthony:  "The  soul  that  is  built  up  in 
virtue  must  be  built  up  in  tears."  "Steep 
and  craggy  is  the  path  of  the  gods,"  said 
Porphyry. 

JULY   15.     The   seed  in  the   Soul   needs  The  Beautiful 
the  right  soil — as  the  grain-seed  in  the  Tree  of  Poetry 
earth — before  the  beautiful  tree  of  poetry 
may  spring  forth  to  spread  its  sheltering 
branches,  to  give  its  pleasant  shade,  to 
flower,  to  bear  its   fruit  of  beauty   and 
inner  joy.     If  the  soil  be  not  ripe,  vain 
are  the  hopes  and  wishes  to  see  the  tree 
spring  forth  in  mind  of  friend,  brother, 
sister,  child. 

I  see  people  with  faces  sad  and  weary. 
No  joy,  no  inner  well-springs  of  sweet 
waters.  Maras  only;  at  best  with  the 
pallid  hopes  of  the  churches  playing 
upon  their  bloodless  faces — of  a  reward 
hereafter  for  belief  in  this  world  in  cer 
tain  doctrines,  and  not  because  of  moral 
living  and  purity  of  thought.  I  long  to 
give  those  sad  lives  some  sweetness  now, 
of  the  life  lived  here  beneath  this 
pleasant  Shade  Tree,  where  food  for  the 
soul  is  never  lacking,  nor  distilled  juices 
of  her  fairest  fruits  to  slake  the  spirit- 
thirst.  I  may  nourish  and  water  but 
can  not  plant.  "Poets  are  born,  not 
made."  Nature,  that  just  and  bountiful 
Mother,  puts  the  little  seed  in  all.  In  few 

111 


IN  HARMONY 

The  Beautiful  souls  is  found  the  rich  soil  in  which  the 
Tree  of  Poetry  seed  may  grow — the  seed  that  lies  deep 
beneath  the  accumulated  rubbish  of  the 
opinions  of  ages,  so  that  it  can  not  reach 
the  sunshine  of  truth  in  which  to  grow. 
It  perishes  unseen  and  unknown  in  dark 
ness  below,  and  the  starved  soul  feeds 
upon  the  husks  of  old,  dead  opinion,  wan 
and  wasted  for  lack  of  joy  and  beauty, 
little  dreaming  of  the  divine  seed  hidden 
within.  In  some  rare  souls  the  pile  of 
rubbish  does  not  accumulate,  so  clean, 
so  pure,  so  childlike  are  they.  They  do 
not  take  on  the  conventions,  the  lifeless 
customs  of  beliefs.  The  seed  springs 
forth.  The  tree  grows  apace.  The  Soul 
can  say  with  Confucius:  "With  a  few 
grains  of  rice,  a  cup  of  cold  water,  and 
my  bended  arm  for  a  pillow,  I  still  know 
joy." 

The  people  go  hungry  and  thirsty  along 
the  road  of  life,  sweating  and  sinking  be 
neath  the  scorching  rays  of  the  sun  and 
over  the  arid  desert  sands;  not  heeding 
the  little  seed  within  them,  which  could 
bring  forth  the  beautiful  Tree  of  Poetry 
to  refresh  their  weary  souls.  They  have 
closed  their  ears  and  hear  not  the  voice 
of  Nature  calling  to  them:  "Toil  not 
neither  spin  the  warp  and  woof  of  false 
beliefs.  Open  your  eyes.  Behold  the 
divine  presence  of  Life  now.  Postpone 

112 


IN  HARMONY 

not  that  Beatific  Vision  to  some  uncer 
tain,  ghostly  day  of  Hereafter.  Know  ye 
not,  O  ye  of  little  faith,  that  your 
Heavenly  Father  knoweth  ye  have  need 
of  these  things?" 

The  beautiful  Tree  of  Poetry  shelters 
from  the  arid  sands  and  the  scorching 
heat  on  the  great,  dusty  road  of  life. 
You  bear  the  tiny  seed  within  you.  Let 
it  grow. 

JULY  24.  In  music  the  Soul  catches  hold  Music 
of  something  from  out  the  abysm  of  the 
Infinite.  It  is  touched,  only  to  be  lost 
in  the  same  instant.  The  Soul  seeks 
in  despair  for  that  tone,  for  that  ex 
quisite  thrill  of  love,  for  that  one  flash 
of  light  which  came  and  was  not,  which 
possessed  her  being  yet  which  had  no 
tangible  existence.  Music  is  the  contact 
of  the  Soul  with  God. 

JULY  25.     I  had  thought  I  knew   some   I  Know  Only 
philosophy.      I    find    I    know    only    my  My  Ignorance 
ignorance.     Even  this  is   a  far  step  on 
the  way  and  the  first  real  gain  towards 
proceeding    further.      Few    know    their 
ignorance. 

JULY  26.  What  a  wonderful  work — that 
of  building  up  a  Self  or  world  of  beauti 
ful  thoughts  and  ideas!  The  bird  sings. 
Its  tones  convey  to  me  ideas  of  spiritual 
beauty  and  purity. 

113 


IN  HARMONY 

Inspiration  Let  the   great   reservoir   of  the   Self  be 
and  ever  kept  open  to  the  highest  aspiration, 
Purposive  even  open  to  receive  the  impossible.    But 
Action  when  any  particular  work  is  to  be  under 
taken,    then    look    well    about.      Know 
surely  just  what  are  your  materials,  that 
your  present  acquirements  are  sufficient 
for    achievement.      Then    draw    within 
your  limits  and  work. 

Mediocrity  JULY  27.     The  difference  between  medi- 

and  Genius  ocrity  and  genius  is  that  the  former  lives 

and   acts  by  instincts   and   conventions, 

while  genius  lives  and  acts  by  intellect 

and  imagination. 

Sons  of  God  JULY  28.  To  be  a  god  one  need  not  be 
a  supreme  god.  A  god  is  a  being  pos 
sessed  of  divine  powers.  Man  is  such 
a  god.  All  his  power  is  god-power. 
Does  he  not  mount  up  into  heaven  when 
he  puts  the  sun  in  his  science-scales  and 
marks  down  the  weight  thereof?  Or 
when  he  travels  into  space  and  tallies 
the  nebulae,  outreaching  beyond  the 
Milky  Way — that  highroad  of  life,  whose 
very  dust  is  composed  of  countless 
galaxies  of  suns — ?  yet  does  he  take  his 
evening  and  morning  stroll  far  out  be 
yond  that  infinite  Rim  of  Being. 
Man  is  a  god  when  he  brings  forth  the 
hidden  energies  of  nature  compelling 
them  to  fetch  and  carry  for  him  as  his 

114 


IN  HARMONY 

slaves.  Man  is  a  god  when  he  reads  the  Sons  of  God 
Hieroglyphic  Book  of  Truth,  in  his  own 
higher  reason  and  in  his  heart.  It  is 
then  he  ascends  to  Olympus  and  sees 
God,  his  Father,  face  to  face,  in  sacred 
kinship  in  the  moral  Ideal.  Above  all 
is  he  a  god  when  he  ceases  to  desire 
vengeance  and  forgives  those  who  have 
wronged  him;  when  he  knows  and  loves 
the  law  and  recognizes  mercy  as  the 
higher  justice. 

To  be  a  god  man  need  not  be  such  a 
being  as  Heine  supposed  that  Hegel 
claimed  him  to  be;  that  is,  one  who  can 
have  external  and  mechanical  control 
over  all  things  in  heaven  and  earth;  one 
who  can  perform  miracles  in  the  old 
dogmatic  sense;  which  indeed  is  a  vul 
gar  interpretation  to  give  to  the  act  or 
event  called  a  miracle.  Man,  to  me,  is 
a  god  in  a  far  better  and  higher  sense 
than  that.  Jesus  saw  that  man  is  a  god. 
He  declared  that  men  would  do  greater 
works  than  he;  that  men  are  the  sons 
of  God.  If  a  human  being  has  a  son,  is 
not  the  son  a  human  being?  If  God  have 
sons,  are  they  not  gods,  by  nature  and 
inheritance? 

AUGUST  3.  It  is  the  poem  of  her  own 
life  that  engages  the  attention  of  the 
Soul  and  absorbs  her  reflection.  As 

115 


IN  HARMONY 

Tlie  Poem  of  novelists  and  poets  write  of  the  lives  of 

My  Own  Life  imaginary  persons,  so  does  the  Soul  write 

of    her    own    life.      Most    persons    are 

myopic  and  can  not  see,  for  the  nearness, 

the  poetry  of  their  own  lives. 

Genius  Makes  AUGUST   4.     It   is   the   thought  that   sur- 

a  New  Era  rounds  us  which  makes  us  what  we  are. 

Genius    alone    rises    above    the    common 

thought   and   makes   a   new   era   for  the 

people. 

Memories  AUGUST  7.  Voices  divine  of  string  and 
horn — the  aspiration  of  the  dominant, 
the  home-returning  tones  of  the  tonic! 
The  heaven-high  tones  in  the  lights  and 
tints  of  Nature,  and  her  deep  heart-tones 
in  colors  and  shadow! 
The  mountains!  and  the  summer  sun 
gently  sinking  beyond  the  ridge.  The 
little  grasshopper's  summer  song  and  the 
dirge  song  of  my  heart — no  more  to  hear 
the  footsteps  I  love  coming  up  to  me 
from  the  old  Home  abandoned,  now  a 
wilderness — to  me,  sitting  alone  in  my 
cottage — and  the  mountains  echoing 
voices  divine  of  string  and  horn,  and 
the  dirge  song  of  my  heart  echoing  the 
music  of  the  past! 

AUGUST  8.  It  is  the  stern  principles  of 
philosophy  which  have  prevented  the 
Soul  from  sinking  into  despair.  They 
are  the  silent  voices  which  sound  in  the 

116 


IN  HARMONY 

Soul  forever,  forbidding  her  to  falter. 
She  would  have  died  long  ago,  had  it 
not  been  for  these  inner  voices.  In  lone 
liness,  shame,  humiliation,  neglect,  pain, 
weakness,  darkness  and  silence  of  years, 
they  have  sustained  and  upheld  her. 
They  illuminate  the  silence  and  the  dark 
ness  of  her  prison.  They  have  softened 
and  consoled  the  dreary  length  of  soli 
tary  days.  They  have  pointed  to  the  way 
out  of  misery.  They  have  cheered,  up 
held  and  encouraged  her  sinking  foot 
steps.  They  have  spoken  to  her  when 
there  was  no  human  voice  to  speak. 
They  have  unraveled  the  tangled  thought 
when  all  was  perplexity.  They  have 
been  the  pillar  of  fire  by  night  and  the 
pillar  of  cloud  by  day,  as  the  Soul  has 
wandered,  lost,  in  the  wilderness  these 
"forty  days"  of  her  hundred  months. 

AUGUST  9.  Religion  believes  in  God. 
Philosophy  explains  God.  Agnosticism 
is  no  philosophy  at  all.  Philosophy  is  an 
affirmation  but  Agnosticism  is  a  nega 
tion.  The  aim  of  philosophy  is  to  ex 
plain  the  universe.  Agnosticism  denies 
that  there  can  be  any  explanation. 

AUGUST  10.  A  person  of  genius  is  like 
the  sun.  Swift  is  the  circulation  of  his 
thought.  He  is  made  up  of  forces  that 
culminate  in  cyclones  and  hurricanes. 

117 


The  Cheering 
Principles  of 
Philosophy 


Philosophy 

Versus 

Agnosticism 


A  Person 
of  Genius 


IN  HARMONY 

Do  not  approach  too  near.  You  are  liable 
to  be  scorched  and  burned.  At  a  safe 
distance  he  becomes  a  beneficent  power 
giving  light  to  all  who  turn  their  faces 
toward  him — a  bright  star  of  beauty,  in 
spiration  and  love. 

Four  Moments  AUGUST  11.  There  are  four  moments  of 
of  Life  life  in  which  Happiness  has  appeared 
to  the  Soul:  When  Philosophy  has 
opened  the  sanctuary  and  elevated  the 
host  of  Truth;  when  Poetry  has  lighted 
her  altar  with  stars;  when  the  eyes  of 
Sorrow  have  been  lifted  in  gratitude; 
when  the  voice  of  Love  has  spoken  its 
benediction. 

A  Drive  in  AUGUST  12.  There  they  are  the  sweet 
the  Mountains  fields — some  painted  brown,  some  gray, 
some  purpled  o'er  with  little  weed-tufts. 
In  the  great  drought  the  sun  goes  down 
like  a  ball  of  bloody  yet  burnished  brass. 
Night  comes  on  and  the  young  moon  is 
a  ruddy  crescent.  The  trees  stand  silent 
and  solemn.  The  Poet  would  be  glad  to 
spend  the  night  with  them;  to  tramp 
along  the  road  in  the  cool  darkness;  to 
watch  the  lonely  farmhouses  with  their 
solitary  lights  shine  out  from  the  small 
windows. 

But  the  horses  dash  forward  over  the 
steep  hills  and  the  friends  will  soon  be 
home  from  their  drive  in  the  mountains. 

118 


IN  HARMONY 

AUGUST  13.    My  uprisen  thought  of  good  As  the 
health    and    harmony    hovers    over    the  Shelcinah 
physical  part,  leading  the  stricken  body   to  Israel 
as  the  Shekinah  irradiated  the  Ark  of  the 
Covenant  before  the  Israelites. 

AUGUST  14.  The  utility,  the  efficacy,  the  Little  Efforts 
resulting  power  of  little  efforts,  of  even 
the  least,  most  incidental,  ragged  bits  of 
things  prove  that  all  is  divine,  that  all 
is  composed  of  god-stuff. 
As  the  material  vesture  of  all  science, 
philosophy,  art,  literature  is  composed  of 
rags — old,  dirty,  frayed  bits  and  ends, 
the  very  leavings  and  cast-offs  of  living 
— thrown  aside  as  useless — yet  from  such 
as  these  come  forth  the  magnificent 
libraries  of  the  world:  so  this  Journal 
which  was  begun  in  moments  of  sheer 
despair,  with  the  hope  only  of  catching 
a  few  outlines,  a  rag,  a  bit-end  of  thought 
and  feeling;  this  poor  Journal  has  been 
deemed  fit  to  pass  under  the  eyes  of  one 
who  knows,*  and  he  tells  me  that  he  is 
interested  in  reading  it — interested  in 
reading  the  bits  and  rags  of  thought- 
life.  O  marvelous  existence,  that  thy 
very  shreds  and  refuse  may  be  a  medium 
of  vital  communication  writh  what  is  holy 
and  divine! 


*John  Burroughs. 

119 


IN  HARMONY 

Good  Only  AUGUST  15.  I  know  that  good  only  is 
IsEeal  real.  It  exists  of  necessity.  Evil  does 
not  exist  of  necessity.  It  is  a  spurious 
manufacture.  That  which  exists  of 
necessity  is  eternal.  Good  only  is 
eternal. 


120 


HERE  ENDS  "THE  UNIVERSAL  ORDER,"  AS 
WRITTEN  BY  FRIEDERIKA  QUITMAN  OGDEN. 
PUBLISHED  IN  BOOK  FORM  BY  PAUL  ELDER 
&  COMPANY,  AND  PRINTED  AT  THEIR  TOMOYE 
PRESS,  IN  THE  CITY  OF  SAN  FRANCISCO, 
DURING  THE  MONTH  OF  AUGUST,  NINETEEN 
HUNDRED  AND  FIFTEEN. 


Ogden,MrsJF.(Q.3272i.1 
The  universal  order 


ft 


D       H37 


327215 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 


